


To Make You Feel My Love

by thelilacfield



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the rising, another phenomenon began to appear. Names, branded into people’s skin, names of others. What some people began to refer to as ‘soul marks’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Could Make you Happy, Make Your Dreams Come True

_"The storms are raging on the rolling sea_  
 _And on the highway of regret._  
 _The winds of change are blowing wild and free,_  
 _You ain't seen nothing like me yet."  
_ **~Adele; _Make You Feel My_ _Love_ ~**

* * *

People are calling it a phenomenon. It began in the States, when a woman looked at her arm on her wedding day and saw that it was not the name of her husband-to-be branded into her skin. And so more people were branded with names of others, and those lucky pairs who managed to meet after they had both been marked reported an instant connection between them. One pair, the first to meet, were married not six months later. But when it crept over the ocean to Europe, panic set in. Why have the marks begun to appear? Why not everyone? People start to dream up all sorts of wild ideas about it, reasons for it happening. Some say it’s a government conspiracy, some say that it’s an extraterrestrial way of marking humanity, and some insist that it’s fate. God’s work.

“I’ll assure you, Sarah, these marks won’t have any detrimental effect on your son’s health,” Doctor Weir says, and Simon pulls his sleeve down, covering the marks that rose from red, irritated skin, _KIEREN WALKER_ spelt out in his flesh, carved into the fabric of him. “Simon, no one really knows what these marks mean yet. In the mean time, we’ve been encouraged to give anyone suffering from them bands to cover them. I’m sure you don’t want people noticing.” He pushes a black band across the table, thick enough to hide the words that circle his wrist like a bracelet or a watch strap, and Simon only hesitates for a moment before he snatches it up and snaps it around his wrist, hiding the words from his sight.

He leaves the clinic with his head down, imagining that everyone around him is whispering, staring, wondering why he’s here. The rumours have dogged him ever since he was caught out, and since then he barely feels able to go out in public, to feel the daggers of people staring and hear the hissing, like malevolent snakes all around him. His chest feels constricted, every breath a chore, and it isn’t until he steps back into the privacy of home that he exhales, and his heart stops racing with worry.

Opening his computer, alone in his room with the blinds down and curtains drawn, the door locked, and only the eerily bright light of the computer screen illuminating his tiny section of the world, Simon slowly and deliberately keys soul marks into the search bar, and watches the screen blur with dozens of results. Only one website looks promising, below all the news articles about the growing number of cases and the medical research, and he clicks it, watching the simple page load, black background and white text. It’s the banner over the top of the page that catches his eye: _HAVE YOU BEEN MARKED? REGISTER HERE, AND WE’LL HELP YOU FIND YOUR SOULMATE!_

It’s a simple enough process to register, letting the webcam take a picture of his bare wrist, the name clear in its simple black lettering, and after it’s done Simon starts to look through the rest of the website, searching for the purpose of the marks. Yet that is still hidden from him, and only theories exist. The site has messageboards and places for people to write their stories, and Simon starts to methodically work through them, reading the stories of the people who woke up one day with the marks, the people who found the person with their name to match, one from the couple who found each other and got married containing their wedding photos and the coverage in the newspapers. And there’s a single story that hurts to read, that makes his free hand unconsciously go to scratch at the name on his wrist, covering it protectively. One man woke up with the marks, dark and clear, and joyfully went out to search for his soulmate. But, the next day, the letters had gone from stark black to a murky grey, and a little more research revealed that the woman had died during the night in a car accident.

It hits him in a nerve he didn’t know he had, jarring right down to his bones. He doesn’t even know who Kieren Walker is, where he might be or how he might feel about these soul marks, this connection they’re supposed to have, the whole idea that they’re fated to be together, but the idea of losing him forever is so _painful_. He can’t imagine waking up and seeing the letters faded, washed out as if sinking back into his bones, knowing that the one soul in the universe that could match him was gone forever, free amongst the stars but lost to him. He can’t imagine a world where he truly knows that love is only fleeting, not something that could ever stay or change the world or leave a dent in someone’s life.

He doesn’t believe in soulmates. Humans weren’t created with eight limbs and two heads, and then split, spending forever wandering the earth in search of their other half. Life is not a cycle that hinges on finding that one person that completes you, when peace will only come after finding that love. True love isn’t waiting out there, written in the stars. Not for him, not for anyone. People who love are lucky, yes, but love is something that is spelt out as a key to happiness, and so often it isn’t. His parents fight at night and three couples in this town have gotten divorced in the last year. Love isn’t infallible or eternal or unbeatable; it is but a fleeting glimpse of potential before reality sets in and tears it apart, as reality is wont to do.

But, when he looks at the name on his wrist, the swoop of the **K** and the loop on the **l** and the sharp angles of the **W** , he thinks that he is chosen. Special. As strange as it seems to the whole world, as time keeps on flowing more and more people are being chosen, brands appearing on their wrists that spell out a name. An important name, a main character in their life. It might not be love, but he’s sure that Kieren Walker will one day be important to his story. And, with each story he reads, about the warmth that rose in hearts when reading the name for the first time, and about first kisses within an hour of meeting and weddings less than a year later and the kind of bliss that seems eternal and unbreakable, the shield is cracked a little more, and he starts to wonder if love is a possibility.

* * *

“What do you think of the soulmate theory?” Kieren asks quietly, interrupting the minutes of silence broken only by their gentle breathing and the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the wall of the cave. “These names people are getting, do you think it’s really about true love? Jem thinks that people got tattoos and then panicked about the names and turned it into this, but she’s just being cynical, really.” He curls closer to Rick beneath their shared blanket, and smiles at the soft kiss he feels dropped on top of his head.

“I don’t know about names appearing on people’s wrists dictating true love,” Rick says, squeezing his arm around Kieren’s shoulders and giving him the benefit of his dizzying smile. “I know what mine would say, if I had one.” Pulling a pen from his pocket, he holds out his wrist, contemplating the fine web of blue veins, and starts to scrawl, big letters in his spiky handwriting. Capping the pen with a flourish, he holds out his wrist for Kieren’s inspection, and he feels his heart jolt when he sees _REN WALKER_ written there. “Can you imagine my dad’s reaction if I went home with that?” he asks, and Kieren just smiles, tracing the letters delicately with the tips of his fingers and sighing in contentment.

Rick slides out from beneath their blanket, raising his pen to the wall, and quickly scrawls _REN + RICK 4EVER_ on the stone of the cave, branding the wall with their feelings, their adoration for each other. Kieren laughs, breathless with joy, and then Rick leans into him, kissing him until the breath simply slips from his lungs and his cheeks are burning with heat. “What am I going to do without you?” he asks softly, melancholy, and Rick just rolls his eyes fondly.

“You’re heading to art school, Ren, and you’re going to blow the competition away,” he says. “Your portfolio was beautiful, you made your sister look gentle and sweet. If you can do that, you can do anything.” Kissing Kieren again, he adds, “And I won’t be gone forever. I’ll be home on leave soon enough, and I’ll come visit you in your dorm and flirt with your roommates and then go home with you when we go out partying like students.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue, those three words that people wait whole lifetimes to hear someone say. He’s sure that it’s how he feels, after sleepless nights thinking about secret kisses and sweet nothings and texts first thing in the morning and last thing at night. But he can’t quite say it, because there’s still that low-down niggle of self-doubt - what if Rick doesn’t say it back? It might shatter him, to be so bold and honest and lay his heart on the line, only to hear silence in reply.

So he just lets the night drift on, and when the glow has to dim and they have to say goodbye, it’s with a kiss, their hands clinging until they have to let go. He slips into his house as quietly as possible, sleeps in his own bed and dreams of the future, when Rick won’t be afraid any more, and they can be so much more than quiet, rushed encounters under cover of darkness. When he wakes in the morning, Rick has already left, and he starts to feel the weight of it, leaden in the pit of his stomach.

Not even two months, and she turns up at the door, tear-stained and shaking. Sixty days ago, Rick was warm in his arms, smiling at him and writing their names on the wall, marking something permanent with them, and now he’s gone. Cold in the ground, another name on a memorial, another person that people will sigh mournfully over, whisper to each other _Such a shame. And so young too._ He’ll be reduced to nothing more than a name, people will forget his smile and his laugh and his terrible jokes and the ambitions he had before he joined the army to please people, always to make someone else happy. No one will ever know the potential he had, the future he could’ve found, all they’ll know is that dreaded moment, the weight of loss and the grave decorated with flowers.

Kieren shuts himself in his room, and he cries. Desperate, rasping, croaking, ugly sobs, that tear through him like electricity, that make his whole body jerk with every one. Everything is so heavy, piling on him, and he simply collapses to the floor in a heap. They knock on the door, their concerned voices filtering through the cracks, but he just holds himself together, a shuddering mass of misery where there used to be a man in love.

It seems like a way out, a way to end the pain, a way to stop this tearing, gaping wound from hurting so much, the intensity of the ache a void within him. He snatches up a knife, and runs, feet pounding the pavements as they change to soft soil and leaves, runs to the beat of his heart and the whisper of the wind in the leaves, and he finds the cave. Stares at their names on the wall, thinks about how he’ll never hear the voice or see the smile or know the kisses, and he breathes in one last time, sharp cool air and the scent of autumn.

Relief gushes, pours out of him like a waterfall, and he sags against the rock, blinking with sudden exhaustion. Sadness is so tiring, energy sucked from him with every tear, with every black looming thought. Nothing is easier. Numbness brings peace. And it’s so easy to sleep.

* * *

Simon’s wrist suddenly flares up with irritation, and he scratches distractedly over the band hiding his soulmate’s name, frowning. Tugging at it, he works the tip of one finger beneath the close-fitting material and scratches, harder and harder, until he starts to worry that he might draw blood. Flicking the button holding the strap together from its hole, he lets the band fall onto the bed and shakes his hand hard, until the itch dissipates as quickly as it had come on, and he stops to look.

And the breath is snatched from his lungs, and his eyes prickle and his throat feels raw and rough, like someone is running sandpaper across his skin, and his heart seems to stop in his chest. _KIEREN WALKER_ , once a vibrant and strong black against his skin, confident and bold and reassuring, has faded into a murky grey, washed-out and shadowy, weaker, and he knows what it means. It strikes a raw nerve, exposed bone, a sharp prod at a bruise, jarring through him in ways he never expected.

It was never meant to happen like this. Through all his methodical research, he'd drawn comfort from the name on his wrist, taking to only wearing the band when he was outside, staring at the name of the man meant for him as reassurance when the fights grew louder, when he heard both of his parents threatening divorce in the heat of the moment. And perhaps he had started to fall for the blank slate that was Kieren Walker, just a little, imagining him, constructing his soulmate from mist and his own ideation. But now, looking at the name in grey, there are tears in his eyes, because he knows what it means. Death and the destruction of hopeful dreams, his naivety quashed, the love that had begun to grow trampled.

He's shaking as he pushes away from his chair, slides the lock across his door and slides into the corner, breathing come heavy and rapid. Lifting his wrist again, he looks at the faded words, the faded feelings, the life snuffed out. How did Kieren Walker die? Even just thinking of the death makes his head reel and he feels empty, cracked, numb. The sadness is overwhelming, overflowing out of him, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and he hates it, scrambles to make it stop, trying to find the one thing that might bring him artificial euphoria, show him that love isn't a meaningless construction and life is about disappointment.

It makes him drift, stops him feeling, cutting him off from reality. He's drifting through space and time, blank all around him, and white noise in his ears. He looks at his wrist again, and thinks about Kieren Walker. A sharp spike of pain goes through him, loathing for the man who left him alone in life, and he looks for a little more oblivion, looks for a way to escape this turmoil altogether. The world is shifting in and out of colour, one second bright and vibrant and the second washed out and grey. Grey like the letters on his skin. Still he  _remembers_ , still he  _aches_ , and he just keeps forcing it out, trying to stop the pain and the anger and the misery that drives the beat of his heart.

Until, finally, he makes it stop. Makes it end. Everything just silence and air and dark, no sound or light or smell, only oblivion. Sweet nothingness, stretching out forever.

* * *

  _A door splinters on its frame, a mother screams in horror. The father shakes the still body of their son violently, over and over again, but the man only flops back and forth like a rag doll._

" _Oh God, Simon,_ _ **why**_ _would you do this to yourself?"_

_**CAUSE OF DEATH: DRUG OVERDOSE** _

_A mother and a sister worry, wonder if they should call the police again, until a father bursts through the door. The relief is only momentary, then they notice the blood and the stillness._

" _Kieren! Kieren, please, open your eyes. This isn't funny anymore, Kier! Please don't die! You_ _ **can't**_ _."_

_**CAUSE OF DEATH: BLOOD LOSS** _

_A man stares at the lines etched on his skin fading, minute by minute, and closes his eyes with a sigh. The band is wrapped around his wrist again, hiding the ending._

_A woman, too young, takes her last breath on a hospital bed. The doctors pull the sheet over her still face, and contact a lawyer for her will._

" _Her name is Amy Dyer. We need her final will and testament."_

_**CAUSE OF DEATH: LEUKEMIA** _

_A breakthrough is announced - soul marks are not defined by life. Even the dead can keep their marks. A husband and a wife hold each other as their son is laid to rest, the wrist with the faded_ _ **KIEREN WALKER**_   _written there now hidden from their sight._

 _A mother, a nurse, opens the door to her son's bedroom, sees him on his computer. Sets the plate down next to him, and runs a comforting hand through his hair. Watches him enter_ _ **Amy Dyer**_   _into the search engine, read again the story of the local girl who died so recently. A girl he never got to meet._

 _A bereft couple attend the funeral of their lost son's friend. No one mentions the closer-than-friends relationship. No one mentions why they're gathered here to mourn the loss of a boy who took his own life. No one risks saying_   _ **why**_ _. They simply mourn, and let the body sink into the ground._

_A young girl absentmindedly scratches her wrist, and knows that it's nothing more than irritation. Love is hard like a diamond, and cuts deep. Love led to the death of her brother. She's not going to love, not ever. Fate can tell her otherwise, but she was never meant for true love and happy endings._


	2. Go To The Ends Of The Earth For You

Five years. So many months since he woke up in a treatment centre and his wrist was blank, empty, devoid of any sign that he'd once been chosen, had someone waiting out there who was perfect for him. They told him that the marks had been gone when they'd captured him and brought him in wrapped in chains, and that no one else like him had retained their marks through the Rising. And, although the faded grey had torn him apart, he feels bereft to have lost the name. Kieren Walker was his soulmate, and it was marked so clearly on him, and now he has nothing. Just an endless life, stretching out in front of him, a life alone.

But then there's Amy. Bright, joyful, kind Amy, who takes his hand like it's easy and drags him after her wherever she goes, her colourful skirts whipping around her like the petals of a flower. She's amazing and wonderful, and she stands with him and tells him stories about Roarton - never knowing about the First Risen, never knowing what he's searching for - and she truly does make him smile. But he doesn't love her - can't love her. She's not his soulmate, and since that was snatched from him it's all he can think about, in those quiet moments of solitude. Where is Kieren Walker now? Buried? Cold beneath the earth? Or did he rise with the rest of them, emerge from the grave redeemed for another life? Is he still out there, living as a rabid? Or is he home?

"I didn't tell you about my BDFF yet!" Amy says suddenly, grabbing him away from the group. He smiles down at her, shaking his head gently, fondly, and runs a hand through her hair, tweaking at the flower she wears. "Stands for Best Dead Friends Forever."

"I thought I was your best friend," he says teasingly, and she laughs, eyes bright, and tugs him along with her to the room they're sleeping in, lying down on the bed and patting the mattress next to her with a smile. She curls up to him when he joins her, twining her fingers into the loose sleeves of his jumper, and he puts an arm around her, pulling her closer.

"You're special, Simon, but you're not my best friend," she says. "Me and this other boy used to hunt together during the Rising, and then we got split up when they took us in. But he lives in Roarton too, and we ran into each other again and we just clicked." The light of inspiration suddenly brightens her eyes and she says, "Since we're going back to Roarton, you can meet him! I need to tell him our wedding's off, anyway. Hopefully he won't be too disappointed."

"What's his name?" Simon asks. Another candidate for the First Risen, someone else to investigate, someone in Amy's life that he needs to meet, someone else like them. Someone who he can show the brighter side of life, bring to their side, teach him that he doesn't have to hide or be ashamed.

"Kieren," Amy says, and extracts herself from Simon's arms to continue packing. "Kieren Walker. And you better not scare him off, or I might just be forced to pick him over you. Kieren Walker is the love of my undead life."

 _Kieren Walker. Kieren Walker._  It stands out like a heartbeat in the centre of his chest, forcing him to breathe in deeply just to calm himself.  _Kieren Walker_. He's out there, in Roarton, and Amy  _knows_  him. His soulmate is still out there, living and breathing on the earth just like Simon is, and his loss wasn't permanent. Of course it wasn't, nothing can stop a true love like soulmates should experience. His head is spinning with all the potential of this meeting, parts of him that he thought were long turned to dust lighting up with daydreams and a pure joy that can only come from this kind of sudden, unexpected happiness. The kind he expected never to feel again the minute that name turned grey.

They board the train to Roarton the next day, and Amy takes him to the cemetery first. It's a grey and blustery day, the wind whipping the bare trees back against the dull autumn sky, their sharp limbs flying through the air in an oddly beautiful dance. "This is my grave," Amy says, and brushes the dirt from the stone, setting a small bunch of flowers down on the soil. "Cut off now, since I rose out of it. No one really comes here for me." She tilts her head, traces the lettering of her epitaph with the tip of one finger, and adds, "Although I kept finding flowers here for a long time. I remember them the night I rose, knocking roses out of the way when I was digging myself up. Must be some volunteer who leaves things on unappreciated graves."

But he isn't looking at her grave, even as she takes his hand and tugs to pull herself upright again. He's staring at the grave a few spots to the right, the earth around it churned up where someone climbed out of it.  _KIEREN WALKER - 1991-2009_. So young, too - only eighteen when he died. It's heartbreaking, but knowing that he's out there, walking around tall and strong, makes the wound stitch closed a little more. Kneeling down in front of the grave and staring at the name, he feels Amy's hand on his back, stooping down to him. "Isn't it sad?" she asks softly. "I can't believe he was only eighteen. Still, he's only twenty-three now. I'm twenty-six, doesn't that sound old? Five wasted years."

"Amy, I'm thirty-two," Simon says, and Amy makes a pointedly mocking face that has him nudging her affectionately. "What could we have been if we hadn't died? But then we might never have met, and you're far too important for me to want that."

She smiles, hugs his arm against her chest, and quietly asks, "How did you die, Simon?" When he clamps his lips together in a hard line, she says, "Come on, you know how I died! If we're going to be a package deal, we have to know each other's backstories, that's how it works!"

Gripping her hand for reassurance, clutching it like a lifeline, Simon slowly confides, "When I graduated from university, I thought I had a plan. Get a job, earn some money, leave my hometown. I was going to be somebody and finally make my parents proud. But then I met someone who derailed those plans." He blinks back the memories of strong hands and dark eyes, the nights that made his body sing and the way the pain lacerated right through him the day he was left behind, and quietly continues, "I was already depressed, and I had to force myself to keep going. But he said he knew a way that I could be happy and motivated, forget everything that hurt me, and I was so desperate for something to believe in that I took his advice. He introduced me to drugs, and I got in too deep. Lost my job. Moved back in with my parents after I promised to stop using. But I didn't, obviously, and I just..." He trails off - he can't tell Amy the reason he died. It would hurt her, and he doesn't want that. He wants her to believe that she's loved, because she needs it as much as he needs to love somebody. "I took it too far. Overdosed by accident when I was trying to forget. The report said that my parents broke my door down and found me dead."

Amy looks at him with a new sadness to her face, dragging her fingers down his arm. The touch is one his mother used to give him, and he remembers how calming it always was. "I guess I just attract men with tragic backstories," she says quietly. "Kieren...well, when you hear his story, you'll be as sad as I was." She looks at him as he affects his most pleading expression, and the corners of her mouth twitch up in a smile. "Oh gosh, I can never resist that face. So, Kieren and I have talked extensively about our lives, and I know all this off by heart. When Kieren was sixteen, he got into a romance with his friend, Rick Macy. But Rick's dad, Bill, was an absolute bastard, so they had to keep it very quiet. Rick stayed in the closet, pretended to date girls, and he and Kieren had this special place where they used to go to fool around and talk. And then Rick joined the army to please his parents, and Kieren got into art school, so they had to say goodbye. Kieren didn't tell Rick he loved him. And then Rick was killed in Afghanistan, and Kieren killed himself because of it."

This revelation jolts sharply through Simon, and he imagines that it might hurt if he could still feel pain. Kieren killed himself, over another man. A man he loved. A man whose death destroyed him so completely that he took oblivion over the hurt. Kieren loved Rick in the exact same way that Simon loved Kieren - with the exact same result. "The saga continued when they found Rick redeemed and brought him home," Amy says. "Seemed like a right dickhead to me, but Kieren was sure he could change him. But then," she pulls in a deep, shuddering breath, and Simon slips an arm around her, "Bill never accepted Rick being undead. Rick kept hiding and pretending to be someone else to impress him, but Bill wanted him to kill Kieren. That drove Rick to stop hiding, so Bill killed him. Left his body in front of Kieren's house. He's buried again now."

Breathing out harshly, Simon stands up, leaving Amy contemplating Kieren's epitaph, and carefully takes one flower from the bunch on her grave. Laying it against Kieren's headstone, he tries not to show any emotion, keep that mask on and his shields up. He's fought so hard to bring himself back from the brink after what happened in the treatment centre and the months afterwards, he can't break now over the gravestone of his soulmate. Kieren isn't dead beneath their feet, he's out there, in Roarton. "I hope you two will be friends," Amy says. "The most important men in my life, I need you to get along. Can't have passive-aggressiveness every time we spend time together." Tracing the embroidery on her skirt with one finger, she asks, "Simon? Why did the Undead Prophet tell us to go to Roarton?"

"It's a special place, even though the citizens might not realise it," Simon explains carefully. He can't tell Amy everything, she isn't close enough to the Prophet. She could so easily tell someone without meaning to, and then every intricate bit of the master plan would come crashing down. "The first marked soulmates to get married were both born and raised right here. The First Risen rose in this cemetery. There's a kind of magic around Roarton, a magnet that attracts the supernatural. It's not a coincidence, Amy, and I know you know that. You believe in fate."

"Don't you?" Amy asks. It's strange, how such a seemingly simple and innocuous question can have an answer so convoluted and important answer. He never used to believe in fate. As a young child, he believed in everything, in Santa Claus and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny and the power of wishing on dandelions and shooting stars. And, yes, the power of love. But then everything collapsed, and the darkness gripped him tight, and he believed in nothing. There was only the push through day after day, desperate and aching and seemingly unimportant.

"I didn't used to," he finally says. "But then, something changed my mind, I suppose." One hand goes to absentmindedly scratch at his wrist, where his soul mark used to be, and he has to force himself not to look down. If he does, he'll be overtaken by that grief again, even though he knows that it's nothing to grieve over now, with that man he built up in his mind walking around this community. "I think it's time you showed me your bungalow, Amy. Go and catch up with Kieren and I'll unpack for both of us."

"Oh, you're going to make a wonderful husband one day, letting your lady on a wild night out while you do the chores," Amy says, grinning at him brightly, and Simon returns her smile, offering an arm that she takes with a pleased little grin on her lips. They fall into step beside each other, walking through the streets as themselves, and it's so refreshing. In the commune, no one wore their contacts or cover-up, everybody had the grey skin and pale eyes. But here, they're the only ones who protest, the only ones who wear what they are with pride. People stop and stare, and it makes satisfaction hum in Simon's empty veins. They're going to change things in Roarton.

* * *

Kieren Walker is perfect. Beautiful. Even more so than Simon had ever imagined, constructing his soulmate out of his ideals of beauty. Watching him is a sheer gift, even though he hides who he is behind the contacts and the cover-up that the living forced on them, so they can lie to themselves and pretend that the dead don't walk among them. Because the living are scared of them, know what they're capable of and what they're planning to unleash upon the world. It's a heady feeling, when the living look at him with fear in their eyes, disgust twisting their mouths when they notice his grey skin, veins running beneath his skin like cracks in a mirror, and the way some twitch when they look him in the eyes. Simon is a master of the hard, cold stare that makes people look away, show that they're weaker than him and can't stand to hold his gaze for that long. It makes him feel strong and invincible, even though he knows, deep down, that he is still that terrified young man who was out of his depth in the alien environment of the USA, the same man who got himself tangled up in drugs because he couldn't resist attention.

But he never expected his soulmate to be so  _frustrating_. The soul marks chose people who were perfect for each other, if he was to believe in that sort of thing, people who would match romantically and sexually and emotionally and mentally. Kieren Walker doesn't side with the living, of course he doesn't. He couldn't, being who he is. But he won't listen to any words of wisdom from the Undead Prophet, the Undead Liberation Army that seeks to stop people like him feeling like they have to wear the mask. If ever Simon tries to talk to him about the Second Rising or ask him about his rising, determined to discover if he could be the First Risen, Kieren changes the subject, and glares if Simon ever tries to bring it up again.

Gazing down at his bare wrist, Simon finds the old website that he hoped would unite him with his soulmate, and stares at the picture of his wrist, just one in a thousand desperate and lonely souls, hoping for a sign that there was someone out there to love them unconditionally. He stares at his own skin, branded with  _KIEREN WALKER_  and remembers. Remembers how happy it used to make him, when the days were black and the fighting shook the floor like an earthquake shaking his life out of shape, to look down and know that there was someone for him. Remembers the hope he dared to have, of finding his way to this man and loving him upon first sight and finding happiness in being bonded with his soulmate.

He shuts the laptop with a snap, slamming his fist against the desk to let the rage leak out of him. It boils in his gut, white-hot and writhing, because it was never supposed to be like this. His soulmate was supposed to be  _perfect_  for him. If he can't even believe that fate could choose someone who was  _right_  for him, what is there to believe in? The soft knock at the door makes him start, and he turns around to see Amy waiting there, leaning on the doorframe with a soft smile on her face. "Are you coming to bed?" she asks softly.

"I'll be there soon, I need to check something," Simon says, smiling at her, and she comes over to him, draping herself over the back of the chair and putting her arms gently around him, kissing his cheek sweetly. "I thought you wanted to finish that book tonight so you could tell your gran that you finally read it."

"I only mentioned that to you once, in passing!" Amy exclaims, sounding genuinely overjoyed, and he shrugs modestly. "Gosh, you are such a sweetheart to remember everything I tell you like that. Now you have to wait for at least another hour so I can finish it off. Can't have you distracting me." Grinning and giving him a little wave, she crosses back into her bedroom, and Simon stares down at the sleek black lid of the laptop, wondering if it's worth it to try contacting the Undead Prophet.

But, instead, he opens the lid again, opens the page of stories from those who were marked finally getting to meet their soulmates. And he opens the submission box, and slowly, tentatively, begins to type.  _After seven years of knowing who he is, I recently met my soulmate. And I think that there's a fault in the system somewhere, and fate can get it wrong. He just isn't right for me, in any way, and I can't believe that fate would do this to me. It's cruel, to dangle the idea of true love in front of me, and then snatch it away like that._

The knock at the door breaks through the silence of the house, just the tapping of Simon's fingers on the keyboard, and he gets up before he hears Amy start to move. Not that she would - she gets so absorbed in the books she reads, immersing herself in every world and drowning in the words. Closing the door to the study behind him, Simon opens the door and finds Kieren there. He barges into the house, his face full of a thousand warring emotions and his chest heaving, and Simon shuts the door with a soft click. "What's the matter?" he asks softly, almost afraid to reach out in case Kieren lashes at him. It's like a wrong note played in a song he knows word for word, seeing his soulmate in a pain like this. Even if he knows that they're not right for each other, Kieren is still marked to be  _his_. "What happened?"

He hears the squeak of Amy's bedsprings, and reaches for Kieren before he can leave. It doesn't matter what's passed between them, the words that have been spoken and the actions that have been taken, all that matters right now is that Kieren is obviously in pain, and Simon desperately wants to fix it. " _Kieren_." He sounds so vulnerable, the simple word like a breath, and he hates that. Hates how easy it is for Kieren to break down his walls, his shields, and get right to the core of him with nothing more than a look.

But then Kieren kisses him. For a moment, there's nothing but shock. And then fingers wrapped around heads, brushing against sharp cheekbones, and the feeling of their lips moving together, and Kieren's harsh breaths are so loud, like music dancing on the air. They part with a loud, slick sound, and Simon simply stares at Kieren, his cover-up mousse smeared and one of his contacts pulled out. He looks so beautiful, and he wants to kiss him again, to pull back that electricity that whipped through him, that moment when the world felt so right and so wonderful. When he kissed his soulmate for the first time.

"Amy's here," he says, under his breath, and Kieren looks at him. Nods. And then they're stumbling backwards, out of the door and into the night, away from the windows that Amy could look out of. There's no need to hurt her so acutely, not when she doesn't have to know yet. Once they reach the fence that neatly borders the house, they're falling into another kiss, heavy with desperation and passion, clinging to each other like this might be the only time they get to have this. To be in each other's arms.

"Freddie missed a shot and went rabid," Kieren finally says, when they have to stop kissing, so wrapped up in each other that an observer might find it difficult to tell where one man ends and the next begins. Kieren's fingers are wrapped tight into the thick material of Simon's jumper, clinging harder as he continues the story, "He could've killed Haley, they were trapped in the lock-up. I had to stop Gary from killing Freddie, give him his shot, and they've just carted him off back to Norfolk. And I...that could happen to me. And who knows if anyone could stop me? It was horrible, and I had to get away, so I just started walking. And I kept going, and then I was at the door and you were there and...I don't know. I had to." He kisses Simon again, soft and sweet, and says, "I'm sorry for...that."

"Don't." Jerking him closer again, Simon watches Kieren's eyes flutter closed, the way he leans in close to be kissed. Their mouths are so close as he breathes, "Don't you dare apologise," and kisses him again, drawn in as if Kieren is a magnet, refusing to release him from his grip. It's just such a wonderful feeling, kissing his soulmate, that he doesn't want to stop.

Kieren holds him so close when they kiss, arms around him, pressing their bodies close together. It's as if he doesn't want to let go, like this is the only real thing in the world, the way they clutch at each other desperately. "What are we supposed to do about Amy?" he asks, and there's real distress in his eyes. "She's my best friend, and she thinks you two are going to get  _married_. I shouldn't be out here snogging someone my best friend likes, that's just such a shitty thing to do."

"Let me worry about Amy," Simon says quietly, and draws Kieren closer again. He doesn't want to stop, not now. He'd be content to stand on this street corner for the rest of his forever, kissing this beautiful man, his soulmate. "I won't let her get hurt. That's the last thing I want." Brushing the back of his hand down Kieren's cheek, trying to memorise the way his eyes look so bright in the dark, he murmurs, "But the first thing I want is you."

"I can't stay," Kieren says, his voice full of regret. "Everyone will already be talking about what happened to Freddie, I have to get home before my parents start to worry. I don't want to scare them." He turns away, and it's so heartbreaking. Even though Simon knows, logically, that he could see him in the morning, it's still terrifying to think that he might walk away and not come back. Now, when they're so close to reaching that happy ending, he might leave. "And somehow," Kieren's smiling now, and relief washes through Simon, "I don't think they'd believe me if I said I went to get myself a boyfriend."

That shy acknowledgement of them, of what they are and all the potential lurking in their linked hands, makes Simon grin, tilting their foreheads together tenderly. As Kieren starts to leave, Simon snatches him back, tugging his jumper over his head. "Take it," he says encouragingly, hastily folding it and pressing it into Kieren's hands. "Please. Have something to keep me next to you." That makes Kieren smile, and kiss him again, and he walks away with the jumper clutched close to his chest, as if it's something special.

Simon stands on the street until Kieren is out of sight, and walks back into the bungalow feeling trapped in a daydream. Peering into Amy's room, he finds her still engrossed in her book, and slips into the study to open the laptop. He deletes everything he's already typed, and decides that he'll be simple.  _I met my soulmate recently. You should see him. He's beautiful._

As the laptop shuts down, he glances at his reflection in the blank screen. His mouth is smeared orange with cover-up mousse, and the laughter bubbles up out of him as he carefully wipes it off, unable to help the grin spreading across his lips. Because Kieren came to him first, and even though they're both unmarked the connection was still there. And he hasn't been this happy in a very long time.


	3. But I Will Never Do You Wrong

It's a strange feeling, your beliefs dissolving in the face of someone who comes to mean more to you than the very organisation that lifted you when you needed it the most. But then, it's not true that the Undead Liberation Army is the only thing to have ever helped him through the darkness. Being marked, having Kieren's name on his wrist to show what they meant to each other, that helped him through dark times. Kept the wolves of his own howling mind at bay, at least for a small sliver of time, until the fading led him back down to drown in his own misery. But now, with Kieren next to him, when Simon can touch him and kiss him and whisper sweet words and promises to him whenever he wants, he knows that what the mark alone offered him, and what he thought he could gain from the Undead Liberation Army - it was empty. That happiness, that sense of belonging, the hope given and the knowledge that perhaps he wasn't so alone in the world - none of it compares to having Kieren next to him, calling him  _his_. It's the happiness he's always searched for, the one thing he hoped might bring light to his life, all wrapped up in the man he's willing to leave behind everything he believes in for.

He never thought he'd be the type to walk down a high street wearing cover-up and contacts, conforming to what the living expect of him. But it's for Kieren, it's for a meeting with his boyfriend's family, and he does it anyway. And he smiles and tries to act polite and charming in a way he knows he  _really_  isn't, but Gary is there, and seems to be over those beautiful weeks of being frightened of Simon, after what happened in the pub. And Simon is in awe of Kieren when he stands up to him, despite his parents' wishes, stops sitting back and blending in and finally talks about the night he rose. He's the First Risen, and he's so stunningly beautiful when he sits at his mirror and slowly takes his cover-up off, showing the world who he really is.

As Kieren starts to wipe the cover-up from Simon's face, concentrating carefully on each sweep of the paper, Simon grabs his wrist to still him. "You're beautiful," he says softly, and Kieren ducks away from his gaze. "Kieren. I mean it. The world won't look at you long enough to see it, but you're the most stunning thing I've ever seen." He smiles faintly as Kieren continues to clean him up, throwing the paper into the bin by his desk with unnecessary violence.

"I can't go back down there now," Kieren says, sitting on the end of the bed, hunched over like he's trying to hide. Peeling his contacts out carefully, Simon sits down next to him, taking his hand. "They'll be so disappointed in me, and Gary's going to  _love_  this. I can hear him now, telling everyone about it in the pub. Telling them that all rotters are the same."

"Don't call yourself that," Simon says, squeezing his hand and slipping an arm around him, The cover-up is still streaked at the side of his face like feathered shadows, and he traces each line with his fingertips, looking at where the mask bleeds into the real man, the man he's falling for. "Don't let them define you with derogatory labels, don't let them make you think that way about who you are."

"A rotter is who I am!" Kieren exclaims suddenly, jerking out of Simon's arms and off the bed, pacing anxiously across the carpet, back and forth. "I died, I was supposed to stay dead and stay in the ground and just rot there, become bones. But instead I came up, and I killed people. I'm a monster, I'm rotten to the core, I shouldn't even be walking around like this!"

"Kieren!" Finally, Kieren stops pacing, eyes full of fear as he turns to look at Simon. "You're not rotten. You're alive, and you're good, and you know who you are and what you believe in, and you know how to treat people. That makes you a thousand times less rotten than anyone who chooses to call us that." Placing one hand on Kieren's heaving chest, hearing the contained rage in his shuddering breaths, he says, "I know you struggle with who you are, Kieren. But you know you don't have to hide. Not for your family, not for society, not for anyone. If they can't accept who you are, you shouldn't care about their opinion. But you do, because that's who you are. You don't need to worry about what everyone thinks of you, Kieren."

"Jem's going to kill me," Kieren says, after the silence stretches thin and taut, liable to snap at any moment. "I shouldn't have done that. But she shouldn't have brought him without asking first, she  _knows_  he hated me before I was like this. And she  _knew_  I was bringing you, how could she possibly think it was a good idea?"

"Love for another person can drive you to do crazy things," Simon says, and he doesn't miss the hitch in Kieren's breath. But it's far too early to be talking about love, with its connotations of commitment and forever and giving over everything he is to the man standing in front of him, so he simply smiles and tilts their forehead together. "It's Jem's choice what she does from here. Whether she chooses to continue seeing him and keep him away from you, or to give him up, or to try and force friendliness, it doesn't matter. What matters is how you feel."

Sitting down heavily on the bed, Kieren pulls Simon down next to him and kisses him, one arm wrapping tightly around his neck, bringing their bodies closer together. Returning the kiss with equal fervour, Simon follows Kieren as he lies back on the bed, the hand that isn't on Kieren's hand sliding along the smooth covers and under the pillows, to feel something soft. Tugging, Simon can't help smiling when his own jumper sprawls out across the duvet, and Kieren looks vaguely embarrassed. "Jem has this habit of breaking into my wardrobe and taking my clothes," he says bashfully. "I didn't want her stealing it. I wanted it close."

They fall into another kiss, the bed sinking beneath their weight, and at the back of his mind Simon begins to wonder how far they could feasibly go. Kissing Kieren wakes him up in ways he never imagined, being so close to someone he's so attracted to, physical contact sparking in his chest. But any further thought is interrupted by a knock at the door, and Kieren jerks upright, shoving the jumper back under his pillows and pushing Simon to stand up before he calls out, "What?"

The door opens a little way, and Jem's face comes into view, drawn and pale and nervous. "I just came to say that Gary's gone," she says in a small voice, that of a child in trouble. "Mum and Dad don't like him very much. And I'm not mad, Kieren. I shouldn't have let him talk like that in front of you."

"Oh God, whatever, Jem," Kieren says, his voice almost a growl, and he stands up to shut the door before she can come in. Coming up behind him and pressing his lips gently to his clothed shoulder, Simon wraps both arms around him and just holds him. He could stay like this forever, holding Kieren, feeling him breathe and resting his forehead against his neck.

* * *

Simon opens the door to the bungalow and sees Amy sitting on the floor of the living room, her skirts spread out around her, circled by a ring of old photographs. She looks like she might start crying, lifting each one with the utmost reverence, and he wants to comfort her. But he knows it'll feel tainted, to touch her and hold her and kiss her, when he's betrayed her. It doesn't matter that Kieren is his soulmate, he betrayed Amy, and knowing that will hurt her. But it has to be done.

"I need to talk to you," he says, and Amy looks up at him. Nods, and starts carefully shuffling the pictures into a pile. They're of her, her old life. When she was just a baby, with her parents, and growing up with her grandmother. He aches for her, the losses she's suffered, how she must miss the family that was ripped away from her. It's been a very long time since he ever felt connected to his old life. It was all severed the night his own father threw him out onto the street. "Amy, when you were alive, did you ever have your soul mark?"

"Never got it," Amy says, and shrugs. "One of my doctors said that the leukemia could've affected it coming through, but I just thought I wasn't one of the chosen. Probably better than I didn't get it, to be honest. You're supposed to spend your whole life with your soulmate, and I would never have had that."

Clasping his hands together in his lap, Simon carefully says, "You can't understand how it feels, then. To have your mark. To know that somewhere in the world is someone who is perfect for you in every way. I was a fucked up person, Amy. You know that. But when I got my mark, it helped a little. It fixed me, just the smallest bit. Whenever I felt like I was drowning or being smothered and there was no end to it, I would look down at my mark and I would feel a little more whole. Maybe your soulmate is the other half of your soul, I don't know. But, Amy, my soulmate was Kieren. It still is Kieren. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you before."

"Kieren Walker?" Amy asks, and Simon nods. "Can you prove it?" He gets the laptop from the study, shows her the picture of his marked wrist, and watches the sadness play across her face, her chest rise and fall in a soft, resigned sigh. "Then there's nothing I can do, is there? I suppose it makes me feel a little better that I saw you kissing Kieren because he's your soulmate and not just because you're attracted to him." She looks up at Simon again, and manages a small smile. "Don't look so confused. If you want to keep a relationship secret, you shouldn't go around kissing on public roads. Roarton isn't that big a town, you know."

Lost for words, Simon just looks at Amy, sees the faint smile on her face, and gestures helplessly. "You should've told me sooner," she says sternly, "but it's okay. I understand wanting to see where it might go before you let me know. Your method of confession could've been the tiniest bit more tactful, but it can't be helped that you're an idiot who wouldn't know how to have a secret relationship if you tried. You should come to my master class." She smirks, and says, "Oh yes, while you've been off with my best friend, I have a new man on the horizon. And I really think he can soothe the pain of betrayal." When Simon ducks his head, ashamed, she taps him affectionately on the nose and says, "I'm just joking, handsome. If you have the opportunity to be with your soulmate, you should be. And besides, I've seen my new man's wrist, and it's my name there."

Simon puts an tentative arm around her, and she leans against him with a sigh. "Maybe that's why we came back," she says thoughtfully, and he presses his cheek against her hair and wonders with her. "Maybe people who had soulmates waiting for them were brought back. Fate doesn't want broken hearts, I'm sure. That's when people stop believing. I mean, I have my man. You and Kieren have each other. Freddie has... _had_  Haley. Maybe the Undead Prophet has it all wrong."

Leaning against her, Simon sighs and murmurs, "Yeah, maybe." They stay like that for a long time, leaning against each other, pondering the methods of fate and the chemistry of the world. He thinks about Kieren, his smile and his courage and what he awakes within Simon. And he thinks that Amy might be right, that fate didn't want anyone to miss out on a love like he's found with Kieren. A once in a lifetime kind of love - beautiful, passionate, fragile. And he remembers a quote from a film that Amy once made him watch, curled up against his side and talking about how her grandmother used to adore it: Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.

* * *

" _The last seal is ready to be broken. And you are the one who must break it, my disciple."_

He turns the knife over in his hands. Stares at nothing. One finger idly traces along his wrist, where his soul mark used to be. He followed the sharp lines of the lettering so many times in his darker moments, he doesn't need it there any more to remember exactly how it was. The swoop of the  **K**.The loop on the  **l**. The sharp angles of the  **W**.  _KIEREN WALKER_. His soulmate. The one he loves. The First Risen.

" _The first risen must be martyred, on the twelfth hour of the twelfth day of the twelfth month. Only then can the second resurrection begin. 'For when the chosen one falls, the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall rise again incorruptible: and we shall all be changed.'"_

Carefully packs all his belongings again. Each item seems to carry with it a little piece of Kieren, a memory of their fleeting time together. The cover-up and contacts are flung haphazardly into the corner, in case he had a use for them. Of course he didn't. Since joining the Undead Liberation Army, he's only hidden himself for one person. For one reason.

Conceals the knife in the folds of his coat. Thinks about the walk to the station, the journey back. The task ahead. He doesn't want to, and for a moment his hand shakes in its resolve. He wants to pull the knife out, throw it down, declare that he won't, he  _won't_. But he can't. He's a disciple, people trust him, look up to him, and the Undead Prophet has faith in him. They all know the Second Rising has to happen, that the dead have to rise, and the First Risen must be sacrificed for it to happen.

Why did it have to be Kieren? Why not someone else?  _Anyone_  else? Staring out at the grey sky, the clouds gathering above Roarton, he wonders why his soulmate had to be the First Risen. No one should ever have to kill someone they love. But he's done it before. He can do it again. Even God had to sacrifice his own son for the greater good of the world. He can sacrifice his soulmate for the good of his people.

But then he sees the day. Sees the people gathered there. Sees someone far more rotten and dark than himself or Amy or Kieren or any of the redeemed that he knows - someone who's the very definition of a monster - trying to hurt people. And not just the people of Roarton -  _his_  person. Simon's soulmate, forced to turn rabid, forced to hurt people, but still fighting, forcing back his instincts and the effects of the drug. Knife poised, he looks at the scene. Sees Pearl cock her gun, the point of Jem's gun shaking like her hands.

Jerks his head back to smack Gary in the face. Drops the knife. Runs like he needs what awaits at his destination more than anything in the world. And he does - oh, he  _does_. The Second Rising won't mean anything if he can't watch the new redeemed change the world for them with Kieren at his side. Having the respect of the Undead Prophet, having their community be proud of him and see him as someone special, it won't make him happy if he had to kill his soulmate in order for it to happen. Because Kieren is his soulmate, the shining light in a universe that is full of doubt and darkness, the one thing that is secure and real and beautiful, and Simon will need him forever.

He doesn't even feel the bullet. It's nothing, just a piece of metal lodged in his flesh, and he doesn't feel it. The feeling only comes when he looks at Kieren's face, the effects of the drug melting away because he forced them to, his grey skin patterned in black bile. Simon helps him to his feet, and they leave the scene as fast as possible for the clinic. The Second Rising won't happen. Not today, not ever. Not if Kieren has to die for it to be so.

But then Amy dies. Kieren kneels at her side, shaking and clutching at her limp hand, but Simon moves away. He follows Philip, recognising the slump of his shoulders and how resigned he seems. "She was your soulmate," he says softly, without question. He remembers how it felt to lose Kieren just once, and aches for Philip, who is losing his soulmate for the second time. "May I see your mark?" Philip holds out his wrist, and Simon looks down at the  _AMY DYER_  he's branded with, brushing his fingers along the sharp black lines.

"She never had her mark," Philip says, and they both sit down, away from Amy's still body and Kieren's quiet pleading. "It would've been in the article about her death if she had. A local girl dying of cancer, everyone knew about it. No one knew who she was to me. If she'd been marked, they would've contacted me. So many times I thought about visiting her, and I never did. I didn't want to fall in love with her only to lose her." Scrubbing violently at his wet eyes with the end of his shirt sleeve, he says, "I thought I was getting a second chance. That this time I could fall in love with her and I wouldn't have to be scared of losing her. I didn't even think this was  _possible_."

"I understand," Simon says softly, and he doesn't miss the resentful glare that Philip shoots at him, narrow-eyed and angry. "I was twenty-five when I was marked. Already severely depressed, addicted to drugs, with a family that was falling apart. My mark got me through a lot of very dark days, and when it faded...well, it tore me apart. And I've been given a second chance, and it's a gift I never would've imagined I'd be so grateful for."

Philip stares at him, eyes wide. "You and Kieren?" he asks, and Simon nods, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips. It's almost ridiculous, how happy Kieren makes him. "But your marks disappeared when you rose. Does Kieren  _know_?"

"No." Glancing at his bare wrist, Simon idly wonders if maybe he should tell Kieren. "I have a way to prove it. But I don't know how he'd feel about it. He'd think we only fell into what we have so fast because I know he's my soulmate, and I don't want him to feel like that. It happened so fast because I fell for him ridiculously quickly. He's just that kind of person."

"It was the same with me and Amy," Philip says wistfully, gazing down at his mark. "When she rose, the mark turned black again. I was so happy, knowing that she was out there. And then she was here, and I wanted to be with her so badly, but I screwed it up so many times. She still fell for me, even though I was an idiot." Tilting his head, brow furrowed in confusion, he says, "It still hasn't faded. Maybe it only fades once. I'll spend the rest of my life having to look at it and remember."

The door crashes open, and a clash of voices sounds, and Simon stands. Kieren's family have all burst in, and Philip's mother. "Kier!" Jem's voice is thick with emotion, as if she's just stopped crying or is just about to start, and she flings herself at Kieren, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Watching them, Simon can't help but smile. It's clear to him that Jem cares more about Kieren than her status or her war, no matter what she might pretend. And when she looks up and sees him, her eyes are gleaming with tears, and she stumbles to her feet. "Thank you thank you thank you  _thank you_!" she babbles, throwing her arms around Simon and pressing her face into his shoulder. After a moment of hesitation, he tentatively returns the embrace, making nonsensical soothing noises when he hears her crying and feels the sobs wracking her body.

"It's okay," he says softly, and she only clings harder in response. "It's okay, Jem." She tugs at the back of his jumper, presses her face in closer, and he holds her. It's been a long time since he held someone like this, helping them to work their way through something terrible - Kieren kissing him after what happened to Freddie doesn't count. That was kissing, nothing like this. Arms tight around Jem, feeling how fragile she is under the shield of her uniform, cradling her close and shushing her gently. "You're welcome," he finally says, and she relaxes, and steps away. Her face is stained with tears in the overhead lighting, her eyes red and swelling up, but she manages a small, trembling smile for him, and starts to dab at her eyes with her sleeves.

Away from her parents, who are talking to Doctor Russo and trying to prise Kieren away from Amy's body - he's still kneeling at her side, her hand clutched tightly between his, murmuring pleas to her - Jem looks up at Simon with her red-rimmed eyes and says, "That was an incredible thing you did. Jumping in front of a bullet for him. You haven't even known him for that long, I can't believe you'd save his life." Looking down at the floor quickly, she lowers her voice and hisses, "I know about you two. After that disastrous family lunch, I tried to come and apologise again, but when I opened the door you were a little...preoccupied." Simon ducks his gaze away from hers in embarrassment, and she snorts out a wet laugh.

"Do your parents know?" he asks anxiously. Sue and Steve are still with Kieren, and he wants so badly for them to like him. Or, at least, approve of him. He doesn't want them to think that he's corrupting their son - he wanted to, but Kieren was incorruptible and now he's changed Simon - and he doesn't want them to think that he's an extremist who could end up leaving Kieren behind the same way Rick did. Kieren introduced them as just friends at that lunch, and he's sure that neither of them perceived any greater connection between them. But you never know.

"God no," Jem says, rolling her eyes. There's still a fondness in her voice as she continues, "Dad wouldn't notice anything unless it bit him on the nose. Mum's a bit more perceptive, but she probably didn't notice any romantic energy between you two. That lunch was just so awkward, and she likes to pretend that everything's okay. Don't know how they'd feel about you two."

"They'd think I was corrupting him," Simon says, and Jem laughs. "You know it's true. They see me as the activist in the relationship, the one who has links with all the extremism. Hell, they might even think I slipped him the pills." Meeting Jem's eyes, he firmly says, "And I didn't."

"Mum said Gary would corrupt me," Jem says, biting at her lip and glancing over at her parents again. Kieren's moved away from Amy now, her body covered with a sheet and Doctor Russo making arrangements over the phone. Probably for access to her will. "I think she'll be pretty pleased that he showed his true colours. Speaking of which..." Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she dials, holding up a finger when Simon opens his mouth to speak. "Gary, it's Jem. Thank you for showing me what an incurable dickhead you are before I did something stupid like fall for you. No one messes with my family, especially not Kieren. We're done." Ending the call with a tap of her finger, she slots the phone back into her pocket and smirks. "And  _voila_!"

"You're a good person, Jem," Simon says, and she looks up at him with shock in her wide eyes. "You can pretend around other people that you're a badass and no one can break through your shield. But I know how to see through a mask. You would've shot Pearl before Kieren today, and loyalty to your family is an admirable quality."

"You know what, Simon?" Jem smiles at him, her cheeks still striped with a web of drying tears, and reaches up to smooth out the material stretched over his shoulder, damp from her tears. "You're alright." This time, he pulls her into a hug, and she hooks her chin over his shoulder and breathes softly in his ear. He can smell her perfume, and the fear that still clings to her skin in a silky layer, and he clutches her closer. They were all scared, every one of them, and he does want to know her. He wants to be included in Kieren's family, and forging a friendship with Jem is that first step.


	4. I'd Go Hungry; I'd Go Black And Blue

**A/N:** Apologies for this being a day late, I went to see  _Guardians of the Galaxy_ last night instead of working on this. The final chapter will be posted on Monday :)

* * *

It seems wrong, that none of those who used the bungalow as a place to hide, a place to show their true colours without the fear of retribution, come to Amy's funeral. They seem to want to pretend that it didn't happen, far more concerned with bringing about the Second Rising. And Simon silently seethes inside at how easily they can abandon the family they built up in this town, just people holding onto each other when everyone looked at them in disgust. But he pushes it aside to smile warmly at the people who are there, and to offer Philip a few scant words of comfort. "Amy had a theory that people came back because they had soulmates waiting for them, and fate didn't want to leave the living halves broken-hearted," he says, and Philip looks at him with dim eyes. "Maybe that could apply twice."

Philip sniffs hard, wipes at his eyes in frustration, and nods gently, a slight bob of his head. "Maybe," he says, staring down at his glass like it holds the answers to cure all the pain he's feeling. "I'm supposed to tell people that my mum's offering grief counselling if anyone needs to talk. And I know you don't really trust doctors or nurses, but I promise she'll be kind to you."

Nodding, even though he knows he won't be going near anyone in the medical profession, Simon leaves Philip alone with his grief, picking up a glass that he can't drink for something to do with his hands. He feels tense in a room filled to the brim with the living, people who don't trust him or like him, when he knows that outside of this little bubble a storm is brewing, apt to break at any time. He shouldn't have so publicly left the Undead Liberation Army and cut ties with all the people he's met in Roarton, but he  _had_  to. He can't explain to them that Kieren is his soulmate, because they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand how merely looking at Kieren can make his day brighter, or how the slightest glimpse of his smile makes it feel like his still heart is about to start beating, or how touching him and being with him is the brightest point of his life when all he remembers is darkness, cloying and writhing and clutching at him.

He starts when a hand lands on his shoulder, and turns around to find Jem there. There's small white flower tucked into her hair, and she's red-eyed but resolute, mouth set in a hard line, determined not to break down. "You know my parents are completely willing to offer you a place to stay," she says, helping herself to one of the cakes that Kieren prepared, iced neatly like flower petals. "I imagine the bungalow will get pretty lonely when it's just you staying there. Unfortunately, it's probably unlikely that they'll let Kieren move over there. After what happened, they want to keep an even closer eye on him and make sure he's not going to stray away from them." She lays a gentle hand on his arm and looks up to meet his eyes. "They don't blame you for what happened, Simon. Not even a little. When it's Kieren's word against Gary's, they believe him. Family always comes first with us."

"I've noticed," Simon says quietly, glancing over at Kieren with his parents. The three of them are sitting quietly together, the older couple both drinking from their mugs, and Kieren staring blindly into space. He's lost without Amy, that much is obvious, like a moon drifting through the endless universe without a planet to anchor to. But Kieren blinks and notices Simon looking, and manages a faint, quivering smile for him. "You've stuck together through a lot, and it's amazing. If I'd had half the relationship with my father that Kieren has with yours, maybe I would've turned out better."

"They weren't always like this," Jem says, leaning against the edge of the table and picking at her cake, pulling off tiny pieces of the sponge and the sprinkles decorating the colourful icing. "They used to fight a lot about Kieren's future. Dad wanted him to go into medicine like he did, but Kieren's never been that academic. Always preferred art. But Dad grew to accept that about him, and then his sexuality, and then the fact that he rose." She glances sideways at Simon, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What about your mum? What's your relationship with her like?"

"It was good," Simon says, and Jem clamps her lips together immediately, looking embarrassed. "It's okay. It'll always sting, but it doesn't hurt as badly any more. She died during the Rising." He pulls in a deep, shuddering breath, and looks down at Jem, wondering if he can trust her enough to tell his story. "I had a hard time in my old life. I remember being okay as a child, but as soon as I passed ten, I...I stopped believing in anything. My mum always tried to be patient with me and understand what I was going through, but my dad had no patience. I was their only child, and they both wanted great things for me. I tried to be the son they deserved. Went to university for English, spent a semester in the USA, and graduated successfully. I was going to teach, but then things went wrong. I met someone who introduced me to a whole new side of life, and drugs ended up destroying me. I had to move home again, and my dad always thought I was leeching off them. Him and my mum were on the verge of divorce when I died. She always believed I would go on to great things." He looks down at his hands, following the lines of his veins, and quietly adds, "She was wrong."

"Don't say that!" Jem exclaims. "God knows our parents didn't imagine Kieren going to art school, or me becoming a soldier at fourteen, but we still make them proud. That's what parents should do, be proud of their kids no matter what direction their life goes in. And even if you believe that, Simon, you've got forever to turn it around." She breathes in sharply, and her next words tumble out of her in a rush. "Please stay here. Kieren would love to have you here, and I'm sure Mum and Dad want to get to know you as Kier's boyfriend. And I would really like to have someone here who isn't my family. I love them, but they're just so irritating sometimes. With my past, it's difficult for me to make genuine friends outside of them."

Simon just shakes his head, and winces when her shoulders slump in disappointment. "Amy left the bungalow to me in her will. It's where she grew up, she has all these happy memories of being there with her grandmother, and photos of her there with her parents. She lost so much, I can't abandon the one constant in her life. Believe me, if I wanted to leave, my first choice would be here." He pats her tentatively on the shoulder, and drifts away into the crowd, crossing to Kieren and taking his hand to guide him away from the gathering, away from the low hum of vacant chatter and the way people keep glancing at him as if fearing he'll go rabid any second. "Move in with me," he says, and Kieren turns away from him, looking resigned. "I know you want to be with your family, Kieren, but the bungalow isn't far away. Please?"

"I just can't, Simon," Kieren says with a helpless look in his eyes. "My parents are trying so hard to accept the person I've become, and to make me feel welcome, and Jem needs me. I can't just abandon them, not for you and not for anyone. And I don't think I could stay in Amy's house. Too many memories floating around, every minute in there would just hurt so much. I'm sorry."

Simon glances down briefly, bites at his lower lip, and forces himself to smile reassuringly, cupping a hand around Kieren's cheek and brushing his thumb along the line of his cheekbone. "It's okay," he says softly. "Really. I'll be okay by myself." Looking back at the party, he says, "I should go, anyway. I think I've taken advantage of your parents' hospitality for long enough, and I want to start packing up Amy's things before I get to the point where I can't face doing it." With another glance around to see if anyone's looking, he presses a kiss to Kieren's lips and whispers, "I'll come and see you tomorrow."

Blinking slowly, looking slightly dazed, Kieren smiles in that beautiful way that lights up his eyes, and nods. "I'll be waiting," he says softly, and leans up to give Simon a lingering kiss that makes him temporarily forget that they're in a busy room and surrounded by people who might react in the wrong way. When they break apart, Simon takes his coat down from the hook and walks out the door. A glance back shows Steve watching him through the window, and the realisation rushes up on him that both of Kieren's parents probably saw them. But he just smiles, and waves. It's a problem to confront another day.

He comes to a stumbling halt outside the bungalow, and he can feel himself start to shake. The grey walls are spray-painted in vivid red, the colour the Undead Liberation Army uses whenever they leave their tag behind, the words  _SIMON MONROE BETRAYED US_  splashed across the front of Amy's home. His breathing comes in sharp rattles, frightened, as he hurries to the door, finding it, mercifully, still locked. As soon as he's inside, he checks every window and every door. Nothing is broken or bent, and when he looks around everything seems to be in its place. But it scares him - he didn't have any concrete idea about whether the people who once worshipped him as a leader would seek revenge, and now it's clear that they will.

Amy's room is so still without her there, in her wild clothes, thrown across the bed reading or looking back at her memories. He pulls out the cardboard boxes and starts to put everything in order, stripping the bed down and pulling the books from the shelves and her clothes from the wardrobe, keeping everything in neat order and taping each box shut, labelling it in block capitals. It's almost midnight by the time he finishes, his eyes gritty with exhaustion, and he walks around the house to triple check that every door is locked and every window sealed before he goes to bed.

He's still woken in the early hours but the sound of smashing glass and heavy footsteps. The door to his room flies open, and Zoe is standing there, her face full of fury. "You're a traitor to the Prophet," she snarls, and he can't disagree. "You were supposed to bring about the Second Rising. But you didn't, Because you have a  _boyfriend_  now." He opens his mouth to speak, to try and pacify her, but she snaps, "No, you don't get to speak to me! You don't deserve to speak to any of us. You betrayed us. You didn't sacrifice the First Risen. That task has been passed to me." She leans over him, eyes gleaming dangerously in the light, and says, "And believe me, Simon, I won't fail."

She leaves without touching him, without another word, but the fear is still cold as ice, seeping down through Simon's skin and his empty veins into the very depths of him. He thought it would be alright, that none of them would know who the First Risen was and be able to hurt him, but she does, she's found out somehow, and it's obvious from that terrible gleam in her eye that she will complete her mission. She's going to kill Kieren.

Those are the words that get him out of bed, packing a few of his most precious possessions into a rucksack, and leaving the house. The glass from the broken window crunches like lethal, glistening snow beneath his heavy footfalls, and he knows that locking the house won't make a difference. The streets are dark and empty, no sign of life in any lit windows or quiet noise drifting from any house, nothing like the cities he used to live in.

But, when he knocks on the door to the Walker's house, it's answered almost immediately by Jem, her face drawn and anxious. "Are you okay?" she asks softly, and he shakes his head. "Come in, come on. I'll go wake Mum to talk to you. Couldn't sleep." He just nods, and sets his rucksack down beneath the coat hooks, sinking into the sofa. He's still terrified, looking over his shoulder in case someone followed him, fearing that he might already be too late. It wouldn't be too much of an effort for Zoe to break into this house, creep silently up the stairs and bury a knife in the back of Kieren's head.

Sue comes down the stairs a few minutes later, still tying the belt on her dressing gown, and she smiles at him, sleep evident in her eyes. "Taking us up on our offer, then?" she asks softly, and Simon nods. "Come on, you can stay in Kieren's room tonight. We'll work things out tomorrow, if you change your mind." There's a second layer to her words, another meaning, and Simon just nods. Tomorrow, he can start presenting himself to them as their son's boyfriend.

He slips into Kieren's room as quietly as possible, hoping he'll sleep on and be unaware. But he starts when Kieren's voice drifts through the darkness, and the light flicks dimly on. "You know, when you said you'd see me tomorrow, I didn't think you meant at three in the morning," Kieren says, smiling sleepily, and Simon rolls his eyes fondly.

"I missed you," he says quietly, and slides into bed beside Kieren. "I care about you, Kieren. So much." Kieren just stares at him with wide eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a slight smile, and kisses him before he lies down and tugs Simon's arm over him. Pressing his lips to the back of Kieren's neck, just above the dark hole in his skin, Simon lets himself relax and drift, wrapped up tight in his soulmate.

* * *

Simon only had one serious relationship in his old life, and it was with the man who introduced him to drugs. The rest of his life is a blur of flirtations and one night stands and short arrangements that fell apart the moment anything got too serious, too risky. He always tried to keep those relationships hidden, sneaking around and keeping it away from prying eyes. It's odd, adjusting to the fact that he doesn't  _need_  to hide his relationship with Kieren. Living with him, being with him all the time, flirting with him in front of his family - nothing is frowned upon or met with angry mumbling. In fact, every time he slips his hand into Kieren's or leans over to whisper something to him, he catches one of the three people in the household looking at them with a smile.

"It's because Kier's never introduced them to a boyfriend before," Jem says, her feet in Simon's lap and her book propped on her chest. The TV is playing quietly, a DVD Steve insisted was a masterpiece that neither of them are really paying attention to. "I mean, they knew there was more to him and Rick than friendship, everybody did, but Kieren never admitted that to them. And now they've got you, and they're basically preparing you to their son-in-law. Mum's already planning the wedding!" She looks up, and laughs at Simon's horrified expression. "I'm joking, Simon. I think."

Rolling his eyes at her hiding her laughter behind the book, Simon shoves her feet onto the floor harder than necessary when the phone starts to ring, almost knocking her off the sofa. Smirking at her glare, he picks up the phone and politely says, "Walker residence, Simon speaking."

"You're so stupid," comes a voice, and his fingers clench around the phone, pressing it closer to his ear. "Letting your little boy toy out alone. Don't you know the entire town is out for his blood? Good luck saving him this time." The line goes quiet, just the dull hum of the dial tone, and the phone slips from Simon's fingers, landing on the floor with a crack that whips through the companionable silence.

"Simon?" Jem's voice breaks the static alive in his mind, and he moves quickly, grabbing his coat from the hook and hastily buttoning it. "Simon! What's going on?" He looks back at her, and the fear on his face makes her shrink back against the cushions, all colour fading from her cheeks.

"They're going to kill Kieren," he says, and walks out of the door, slamming it behind him. The street outside is quiet, and his footfalls are impossibly loud on the pavement as he starts to run, moving towards the centre of town. Even if he can't find Kieren there, someone will have seen him. Someone will be able to point him in Kieren's direction, and as he runs he has to repeatedly push away the wicked little voice that whispers he might already be too late. He has to believe that life will be kind to him, no matter how harsh it's been in the past - he has to believe that fate doesn't want a broken heart.

He rounds the corner behind the supermarket and finds Zoe waiting for him. When she looks up and notices him, a terrifyingly content smile comes over her face, and she withdraws a wicked looking knife from her pocket. There's a scuffle, and Brian drags a struggling Kieren around the corner of the building, putting an arm around his throat and presenting him to Zoe like some kind of prize. "Zoe, please!" Simon pleads, reaching out for her. She throws his hand off her, pointing the knife momentarily in his direction. "Zoe, you don't have to do this!"

"Orders from the Prophet," Zoe says. "I have to clean up the mess you made by not going through with your mission. We never thought you'd be the type to let your heart make the decisions, Simon." She looks at him, and scoffs. "Well, not your heart. But certainly not your head." She looks at Kieren, and Simon shakes his head frantically. "Simon was supposed to sacrifice the First Risen. He was supposed to kill you and bring about the Second Rising. But he's just a coward, and he couldn't do it."

Kieren stares at him, eyes full of betrayal, and Simon shakes his head desperately. He grabs Zoe, trying to wrestle the knife out of her hand, but she simply slashes it across his arm and keeps walking. And then, suddenly, there are running footsteps and an arm around Zoe's neck and a gun against her temple. "Drop the knife," Jem snarls, and jerks Zoe backwards. Snatching the knife from her hands, Simon pulls Kieren away, and the three of them walk away from the scene.

By the time they get back to the house, Kieren pushes Simon away when they walk in, and heads up the stairs to his room. Jem makes a face as she sets her gun in its box, and says, "That must be the downside to being eighteen forever. He's going to sulk something fierce now. You better go talk to him." Nodding, Simon gives her brief grateful smile and darts up the stairs.

Kieren is sitting cross-legged on his bed, flipping through the pages of his sketchbook. When Simon shuts the door with a soft snap, he looks up and asks, "Were you really supposed to kill me?" Before Simon can answer, he continues, "Is that why you disappeared? You were talking to the Prophet? Oh my God, my boyfriend disappeared on me because some crazy extremist he looks up to was telling him to kill me."

"Looked." Kieren looks up at him, eyes bright with a sheen of tears, and Simon takes his hand gently, hoping he won't pull away. "I used to look up to the Prophet. I don't anymore. I can't look up to anyone who asks me to kill my..." He hesitates, wondering if now is the time to tell the truth. "Can I borrow your laptop?" Kieren squints at him in confusion, but nods, and Simon snatches it from the desk, putting in the address of the website he knows so well, finding his own page and his own picture. "Kieren, I can't look up to anyone who asks me to kill my soulmate."

Kieren takes the laptop, settling it on his legs and staring at the picture as Simon stares at his face, trying to gauge his reaction from his smooth face and deliberately set mouth. "'I met my soulmate recently. You should see him. He's beautiful'," he reads, and looks up at Simon with a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Is that really how you feel?" Simon nods, and Kieren smiles again, his eyes bright. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think I wanted to be with you just because I got marked," Simon says, taking Kieren's hand in his. "I wanted to be with you because you were everything I wanted the moment I met you, and because I'd never been so drawn to another person in my life, and because you're incredible. I don't-"

Kieren cuts him off by kissing him, hard, one hand on Simon's thigh and the other on his shoulder, seconds away from sending the laptop flying as he leans into him. Their breath mingles and Kieren looks absolutely blissful as they break apart. "I love you," he says softly, and Simon's chest clenches, a helpless smile crossing his face. "Oh God, I'm not saying that because of the soulmate thing. I've been wondering whether to say it for a while, because I never said it to Rick and I always worried that you'd leave me too if I said it and-"

Another kiss, Simon's fingers curling around Kieren's face, just to see that same dazed look on his face. "I love you too," he says softly. "And, because I love you, I'm going to tell you that I was going to go through with it. I was, I came to Roarton and I came here. But then I saw what Gary did to you, and I saw you fighting the Blue Oblivion, and I just couldn't do it. I tried to convince myself it was for the greater good, but I just can't see a greater good without you. I love you so much, Kieren."

"I love you too," Kieren says, smiling like he simply can't contain his joy, and Simon kisses him again, like Kieren's lips are a magnet he can't help but be drawn to. Kieren's fingers slide into his hair, curling into the thick material of his jumper, and his hands slip around to settle over the jut of his shoulderblades that feel like fledgling wings as they sink into the bed, tangled up in each other.

* * *

Although Simon would like to deny it, Kieren's strange behaviour continues in the months after the funeral, destroying his hope that it was just a response to Amy's death and would dissolve. He's withdrawn, and sometimes Simon catches him staring at his hands in horror, or ducking away to his room with a thin trickle of blood running from his nose. He worries, but Kieren won't talk about it, always trying to present a happy front, or distracting him.

It comes to a head when Kieren drags him out of the house to the supermarket to buy groceries they went for the day before. "Kieren, what the hell is going on?" Simon asks as they walk back down the street, Kieren's hands shoved deep in his pockets and his eyes firmly on the ground, avoiding Simon's gaze. "You're forgetting the smallest things, you've been having nose bleeds, your hands keep shaking and you won't  _talk_  to me about it. Please, please just give me some peace of mind."

"I can't." Kieren turns to him, pale eyes hardened by fear, and reaches out a trembling hand. "This keeps happening, and I have no idea what's going on, and those posters keep warning about becoming resistant to the medication and turning rabid again. There's no drugs that can turn me back if that happens, Simon! I don't want to live as a rabid my whole life, I'll lose my family and my friends and  _you_  and I can't just give all this up.

"It's okay," Simon reassures him, taking both his hands and clutching them tightly to stop the shaking. "There are things we can do, okay? Drugs and advice and a lot of preventative measures. I'm not going to let that happen to you, okay?" He twines his fingers through Kieren's and pulls him closer, tilting their foreheads together. "I'm not going to lose you again."

They kiss, softly, and when they break apart Simon lets his eyes open slowly, savouring the moment. But when he does open his eyes, he sees Kieren's wide and scared, his violently shaking hand rising slowly to touch the trickle of blood running down to stain his lips. His eyes meet Simon's, just for a second, and he falls backwards, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Simon follows him down, going to his knees over Kieren's still form, staring in horror at his slack face, the blood running down his cheeks and leaving slick grey trails behind. "Kieren!" He shakes Kieren hard by the shoulders, swallowing back his tears and his horror and the feeling like he might throw up, and trying to tend to him. "Kieren, oh  _God_." As Simon sits back on his heels, with no idea what to do and nausea pushing a sour taste into the back of his throat and his entire body cold with fear, Kieren starts to writhe on the ground, still unconscious, the white of his eyes visible, and Simon stands up over him, looking up and down the busy street. "Somebody help!"

"Fucking rotters!" comes a shout, and people seem to part in front of him like Moses parted the sea, avoiding even looking, as if the mere sight of him will make them a target, or make them like him. "Who cares if one of them dies on the street?"

Kicking the edge of the kerb with an angry yelp, Simon tries to mentally map out this small town, the place that's become his home. The clinic is closer to the edge than the centre, about fifteen minutes walking. If he could just carry Kieren there, he could make it okay. Kieren's eyes fly open, and Simon's there, looking at him. But he doesn't say a word, just vomits black bile, and Simon screams for help again, desperate, as Kieren crashes down again, greyer than he was before and terrifyingly still.

A truck rumbles to a stop next to them, and Dean rolls his window down and looks at them, stares at Simon's scared eyes and Kieren's unconscious body. "Need a life to the clinic?" he asks, and Simon nods frantically, feeling pathetically grateful as he hefts Kieren into his arms. "Doesn't matter about the blood, those seats are due for a clean anyway."

Pulling Kieren's head into his lap and stroking his hair slowly, unable to think of anything else to do but wait, Simon stares at the back of Dean's head and says, "Thank you. I couldn't walk there with him. But, um...why? I thought-"

"You thought I was a brainless hater of PDS sufferers like Gary, I know what they say about me," Dean says, and the tone of his voice makes Simon wince with guilt. "I'm not stupid, you know. But since I stopped Maxine Martin from slaughtering everyone like you at that town meeting, people have been looking at me differently. I like being a hero and protecting people, it doesn't matter what side they're on." He brings the car to a stop, and twists in his seat, looking at Simon seriously. "Listen, I still talk to Jem a lot. We meet up for drinks, me and her. And I know he's your soulmate, and you can keep a secret." He pulls the button holding his sleeve tightly closed loose, and pulls it up to his elbow, holding out his arm to display  _JEMIMA WALKER_  written darkly across his wrist. "You know, I want to be with her. I can't just let her brother die on the side of the road. Not that I'd let him die if he wasn't Jem's brother."

"Thank you," Simon repeats, unable to think of anything else to say. He just stares down at Kieren's face, and fears that he might have to lose him again, as Dean wheels around a corner and pulls in the car park of the clinic, opening his door and helping Simon lower Kieren out of the car, slinging his arms around their shoulders to carry him into the clinic.

Kieren opens his eyes again just outside the door, retching violently, and Dean's mouth twists in disgust, an involuntary, "Jesus  _Christ_ ," slipping from him as Simon clutches Kieren upright, heaving him through the doors. Dean moves away to get Doctor Russo, and Simon sets Kieren down in one of the chairs, taking the seat next to him to keep him safe, clutching at his arm and willing him to wake up properly, willing him to be alright.

Doctor Russo comes rushing in a few minutes later, and the colour drains from his cheeks when he sees Kieren. "My God," he breathes, and two nurses come rushing in with a stretcher. Simon helps them lift Kieren onto it, trying to rub away the bloodstains on his face, and Doctor Russo turns to him. "What happened?" he asks, holding his hands out in a gesture of surrender. Helpless.

"He's been having nose bleeds, and forgetting things, and his hands shake a lot," Simon says, and no one could fail to notice the way one of the nurses backs away in fear. "But I swear, he takes his medication every day and this has never happened before now to anyone I know. We were walking, and he just collapsed. I don't know what's going on." He feels helpless, spinning through oblivion, and he hates it, he just wants to find an anchor and grip on to reality. But he can't, not when his anchor is unconscious on a stretcher and could be dying and even his doctor looks like he doesn't know what to do.

"We'll monitor him," Doctor Russo finally says, and gestures for the two nurses to move Kieren away to a room. "If his condition worsens, we'll contact the Partially Deceased wing at the hospital, but hopefully it won't come to that. You're welcome to stay until visiting hours end, although we probably won't be able to give an update on his condition by then. In the mean time, you might want to notify his family."

"Done," Dean says loudly, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he approaches. "If you don't mind, doctor, I'll just hang around for a while." Simon glances at him, and can't even think of how Jem is going to feel about it. His mind is with Kieren, grey against the white sheets of the hospital bed, unconscious and fading and lost, and he's never been so scared for someone in his life.

Kieren's family come crashing into the hospital in a shouting rush, reminiscent of the aftermath of what happened in the graveyard. It's only been a few months, and it's not fair that they should be back here so soon. Sue comes straight to Simon to hug him. "Thank you for getting him here," she says, and Simon returns the hug, trying not to break down in the arms of the closest person he's had to a mother in the last five years.

"Dean helped," he says, and Dean gives the family a small smile. Jem, clutching her cardigan close around her and letting the tears roll down her cheeks, lower lip quivering violently as she tries to hold back her sobs, goes to him and throws her arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. Dean tentatively holds her too, and Simon just stares at them in misery.

He had everything with Kieren. He had a place to call home, a family surrounding him who were never ashamed, someone to fall asleep next to at night and wake up with the next morning, someone who loved him without clause or condition, who he loved in return. Everything. And it's so terrifying, oblivion looming before him, that he might lose it all.


	5. No Doubt In My Mind Where You Belong

_Amy's body on the table in the clinic. Grey skin, eyes closed, blood staining her clothes that she chose so carefully._

_Gone._

_Kieren lying on the pavement, sprawled out like a ragdoll. Limbs thrown out at odd angles, skin webbed with thin veins and stained black._

_Gone._

_A moment when he awoke from the haze of hunger, a split-second after the tranquilizer gun stabbed into his back. Looking down at the body, familiar face ripped apart, his own hands awash in crimson._

" _Mum?"_

_The hard hands pull at him, and the world is fading, shimmering and wavering at the edges, and the man is sobbing and shouting, and he's trying to fight against the hold, even though every movement is slow and weak and he's trying so hard just to blink._

" _Mum!"_

Simon jerks upright, breathing coming out harsh and laboured, and the door squeaks open. Jem's skin looks as pale as his in the unforgiving light of the torch, and she shuts the door gently as Simon leans over to switch on the lamp standing on the bedside table. "Nightmares?" she asks softly, perching on the end of the bed, and he nods. Flicking the torch off, she turns it over and over in her hands and says, "Yeah, me too. A lot."

She shifts up the bed as Simon pushes the duvet away, leaning back against the perfectly plumped pillows with a sigh. "I used to think I wouldn't be affected by what I saw in the HVF," she says slowly. "I really thought I would get over it. It was stupid, being so attached to it all. No one else was suffering. But then I started to get nightmares, and everything I did only made it worse. Every night I would remember seeing Kier and Amy in the supermarket, killing my friend and a soldier, and I'd remember how I just couldn't shoot." She turns to look at him with eyes full of tears, starting to slip down her cheeks as she continues, "I told everyone I'd run out of bullets, but really I was just a coward and I couldn't kill my own brother even when he was a monster! Lisa died because of me!"

Putting an arm around her, letting her cry against his shoulder, Simon swallows and starts to talk, his voice loud in the silence. "The same thing happened to me," he says slowly. "I was a disciple to the Undead Prophet, and he gave me a mission to find the First Risen. I didn't know what he wanted me to do with this person, but he told me I'd find them in Roarton. So I came here with Amy, and I tried to find out everyone's rising story. I had to just cross people off, one by one, and I thought I would never find them. But then I heard your brother's story, and I found out he was the First. So I told the Prophet, like I was expected to do, and then I was given the rest of my mission - I had to kill him."

Jem is staring at him now, eyes wide, and he has to take a deep breath before he can continues, "I was going to do it. I really was, I'd been given a knife and my instructions. I was supposed to start the Second Rising, everyone trusted me to do it. But when I saw Kieren, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't kill my soulmate."

Grabbing at his hand, Jem turns it over to look at the inside of his wrist, where his soul mark used to be. "I heard the marks faded when people rose," she says softly, tracing one of the veins drawing a path just beneath his skin with the tip of one finger. "Freddie doesn't have his any more. Of course, Haley saw that as grounds to believe that the connection was severed. Stupid bitch." She drops his arm and huffs, folding her arms over her chest. "She had her bloody soulmate, I remember their wedding. Camera crews and photographers and reporters everywhere, it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened here. The first marked couple to meet, getting married in Roarton. I remember sulking because Mum made me wear a dress for it, and I remember seeing how happy both of them were. It was just insane, how much they were smiling. And then, of course, he died, and she shacked up with Amir. But he came back for her, and she turned him down. She had happiness right there, her soulmate was  _back_ , and she just let him pass her by. The stupid,  _stupid_  bloody  _bitch_!"

She's almost screaming by the end of her story, and Simon stares at her. Silently, he takes her left arm, jerks her sleeve up and rubs at the skin over her wrist. The cover-up comes away, staining his fingers orange, and Jem starts to cry in earnest as he stares at the name  _LISA LANCASTER_  swirling over her skin. "Jem," he breathes, rubbing his thumb over the mark and looking up into her red-rimmed eyes. "Does anyone know?"

"I've never told anyone," Jem says, snatching her wrist back and cradling it protectively in her right hand, staring down at the name hopelessly. "Not even Lisa. I got this mark at Kieren's funeral, and I vowed I would never fall in love with anyone. Not after why he killed himself. I didn't want to be marked, so I pretended I wasn't. I never wore anything but long sleeves, and covered it with make-up. And I'll always feel awful, because I just let my soulmate die. I didn't do anything to stop it. And then I lied to her parents, to my captain, I lied to everyone. And now, when I see this, I just feel so awful. She was my soulmate, and she's dead because of me."

"I've never told you what happened the night I died, have I?" Simon asks, and Jem shakes her head, pushing her sleeve back over her wrist and pulling her knees up to her chest, hugging herself in. "I got marked with Kieren's name when I was twenty-five. My parents were fighting a lot - my dad wanted me out of their house, and my mum wanted to help me get back on my feet - and that mark helped me believe in happiness that little bit more. And when it faded, I was just so heartbroken. I couldn't cope. I didn't mean to overdose, but I did. I died because Kieren did." She stares at him, eyes wet, and he reaches out to take her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Jem, you know that the soulmate connection is incredibly unique, and that having it exposes us right down to our souls. The fact that you saw your soulmate's body with your own eyes and still had the strength to carry on makes you a stronger person than I ever was."

"Bullshit," Jem says, a hint of a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. "It just means that I wasn't clinically depressed like you or Kier. That doesn't make me strong." She glances at him, and finally smiles. "But thank you for trying to cheer me up. Just don't put yourself down in the process. You went against everything you believed in and left all those friends you had behind because you wouldn't kill Kier. That makes you pretty fucking strong too."

He smiles back at her, and she rolls onto her side to look at him. "I know a way you could go sit at the clinic," she says, and he sits up straight, lifting an eyebrow at her. "Don't doubt me. Philip's mum works there, and since Amy died she's been especially sympathetic to PDS sufferers. I mean, she was before, but now she's an outright campaigner for better PDS rights. And Doctor Russo does pretty much anything she says, they've been dancing around each other basically since Philip's dad walked out on them. So, if I take you to her, she'll be able to swing you getting to stay with Kieren round the clock."

She stands up, and opens Kieren's wardrobe to look through his clothes, pulling out a hoodie and tugging it on. "Now?" Simon asks, and she rolls her eyes at him and nods. "Jem, it's two o'clock in the morning. I'm sure Shirley is a lovely woman, but no one wants two people turning up at their house at this time."

"Oh whatever, Philip will be awake," Jem says, throwing his coat to him from where it's draped over a chair. "I hear Mum and Shirley talking sometimes, and Philip hasn't had a full night's sleep since Amy's funeral. The poor thing, losing his soulmate twice. At least you and I only had to go through it once."

She grabs Simon's hand and drags him out of the house. They walk through the dark streets together, Jem leaning against him in the early March chill, as she guides him to the Wilson household. He almost turns around again, unwilling to trust someone in the medical profession - even someone close to the Walkers, who accepted her son's relationship with Amy, who is sympathetic to the plight of the undead and wants to help - but he thinks about Kieren, alone and in the dark, waking up scared, and he forces himself to follow Jem to the door, swallowing down the sour taste creeping up his throat.

Philip opens the door, eyes drooping with sleep, and he immediately steps out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. "Mum's asleep, so you can't come in," he says. "But I can help you sneak into the clinic. Doctor Russo keeps trying to get on my good side because of his crush on Mum." Ducking quickly back into the house, he emerges wearing a thick jacket and holding a torch. "Come on, if we walk fast we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

He sets up a brisk pace, and Jem and Simon follow along behind him, to the empty, dark clinic. Only the night nurse is still on watch, and she waves them past when she recognises Philip. Jem is hiding her smile behind her hand when Philip ignores her inquiries into how his mother is, and squeezes Simon's hand tightly as Philip ushers them into Kieren's room. "I'll make sure Doctor Russo knows you're here," he says, and leaves, letting Simon take the seat next to Kieren's bed and take his hand between his.

"I'm going to head home, Mum and Dad'll freak out in the morning if neither of us are there," Jem says, and leans over to kiss Simon's cheek softly. "I'll tell them where you are, and we'll be here as soon as visiting hours start again." She glances down at Kieren, looking so small and vulnerable in the hospital bed, and leans over to kiss his forehead. "God, he's warm," she remarks softly. "Do you feel that?" When she looks at Simon, her cheeks immediately flood with ugly scarlet and she clamps her lips together in horror. "Um...never mind. Night, Simon."

"Jem!" She pauses, hand on the door handle, and Simon smiles at her. "Thank you." She just nods, and lets the door swing gently shut behind her. Holding Kieren's hand tightly in his, Simon smiles down at his unconscious form. He doesn't look so pale anymore. Hopefully, that means he's healing from whatever happened to him.

Simon idly traces the edge of the bracelet wrapped around Kieren's wrist that identifies him as a patient. The cause for his admission crawls around the pale inside of his wrist, and Simon gently turns his arm to follow the lettering, curious as to how the doctors here would classify Kieren's condition. And then he drops Kieren's arm as if he's been scalded, because there are black letters on his arm where there should be none.

 _SIMON MONROE_.

* * *

Kieren awakes in the morning, and Doctor Russo comes running as soon as his shift starts, white coat flapping loose around his arms. "I've never seen anything like it," he blusters as he stares down at Kieren, checking all his vital signs. "You have a pulse, a heartbeat, you're warm. Your body appears to be functioning as if you'd never died. This is...extraordinary."

Squeezing Kieren's hand tight, tears in his eyes as he stares at his boyfriend - alive again, so bright and warm and  _beautiful_  - Simon shakes his head. "This is the Second Rising," he says softly, and Kieren's eyes go wide. "They got it wrong, the Undead Prophet had everything wrong. Everyone did. Amy died because she could, because her heart was beating again, and it made her human. She was the First Risen, Kieren, not you. The first to rise again and become living. Her death started the Second Rising."

The door squeaks open, and Kieren bolts upright as Amy waltzes in. "Think again, handsome," she says, ruffling Simon's hair affectionately and helping herself to a chocolate from the box at Kieren's bedside. "See this face? Not dead." She sits down heavily on the end of Kieren's bed, crossing her legs neatly beneath her skirt, and grins at their shocked faces. "I know you're wondering how I did it. Well, it's because I'm Amy, the beautiful genius."

Doctor Russo leaves, staring at Amy with nothing short of absolute shock, the kind that grips an entire person and paralyses them. Leaning forward to touch Amy's arm, as if making sure she's real and not a ghost conjured up by their hopeful imaginations, Kieren says, "But...but you  _died_! Your heart stopped beating! We had a  _funeral_."

"Ah, see, well...to quote Mark Twain, rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Amy says, and Simon almost laughs. He would, if he wasn't in such shock to see her sitting there, as if she'd never even lain before them covered in blood and gone from their lives, a flickering candle snuffed out by the winds of change. "I don't remember much about it. I remember Maxine Martin stabbing me, and how it hurt like nothing else ever had. I remember blacking out, and then I woke up in a dark room, with all sorts of needles in me. There was a nurse there, she came and said they'd almost lost me, but just managed to pull me back. I signed some forms, gave some samples, and they took care of me for a while. Put me through physical therapy. Explained exactly what was going on. And last week, they said they'd gotten everything they could from me, and gave me a lift back here. I went to the bungalow, but it was locked up, so I went to Philip. Nearly gave him a heart attack."

Simon glances down at her wrist, and immediately drags it to look at when he notices the writing.  _PHILIP WILSON_  is branded into her skin, and she smiles when she sees him looking. "I see someone else also got their soulmark," she says, inclining her head at Kieren, and takes his wrist in her hand to look. "Isn't it romantic? You and I weren't even marked, Kieren Walker, and still we managed to find our soulmates. Fate works in strange ways."

"Sometimes you have to die in order to be with your other half," Kieren says, and Amy laughs. Kieren glances up at Simon, and his cheeks go pink with happiness, letting Simon cradle his wrist and grinning up at him with bright eyes. "And we met our soulmates in some pretty strange ways."

"Tell me about it," comes a voice from the doorway, and Amy claps her hands with a grin as Philip carefully walks in, balancing a cardboard tray of coffees. "Amy insisted I get you something, Kieren, but I didn't know what you take in your coffee or tea, so I just got you a cake." He sets the plate down on the table next to Kieren's bed, and Amy smiles up at him and pulls him down for a kiss.

"See, I heard you were in hospital, and I had to come visit," she says, taking her coffee and closing her eyes to enjoy the scent. "God, I missed enjoying food. Anyway, what I think happened is that your body tried to jerk you back to being human again too fast. For me, it happened pretty slowly, not all at once like you. So you collapsed, and your body was just keeping you unconscious while it healed itself." She smiles softly at Philip, and says, "The best part was waking up marked. I was just...so happy."

She leans against Philip, and Simon glances at their wrists. The names seem to intertwine across their skin, perfectly matched, two puzzle pieces, and he wishes so fervently that he could have that with Kieren. His mark faded back into his soul when he rose, and now he looks at his own name splashed across Kieren's skin and it makes him long for his own mark back. He lets one finger swirl over his skin, drawing out the mark he became so familiar with, wishing he could leave the heavy black lines behind, replace what faded with something permanent.

Kieren reaches over to take his hand, and Simon smiles at him gently. "You'll rise again too, Simon," Kieren promises, and starts to trace the same path with his own fingers, a tender touch that sends shivers down Simon's spine. "Your heart will start beating again, and you'll have your mark again. We'll prove that we're the real thing."

A knock comes lightly on the door, and a nurse looks around at them. "You have four more people here to see you, Mr. Walker," she says politely. "But I'll have to ask the three with you currently to leave. We can't have too many people in here, you understand."

Gathering her things together, Amy reaches over to kiss first Kieren's cheek, then Simon's. "We'll all have to get together when you get out of here, handsome," she says, taking Philip's hand and beaming at them. "I've always wanted to go out on a double date."

The two of them leave, but Kieren won't let go of Simon's hand, holding onto him tightly until the nurse rolls her eyes heavily and leaves. Kieren's family come in a moment later, Jem immediately running to hug Simon first. "I have to show you something," she says breathlessly, her eyes shining, and yanks at her sleeve. Above the faded  _LISA LANCASTER_ , a new name is there. "I've never heard of anyone having two names before," Jem continues as Simon takes her wrist in his hands and stares at the  _DEAN HALTON_  branded on her skin. "I'm a medical miracle, I guess. Dean's waiting outside, the nurse said only three of us could come in here."

Sitting in his chair, Simon watches the family interacting. Doctor Russo comes in and out, taking Kieren's vitals and wondering aloud about Amy's sudden return. Dean must manage to wear the watching nurse down eventually, because he joins them, standing protectively close to Jem. The two of them exchange soft smiles and subtle brushes of their hands occasionally, and he can't help but realise how beautiful it is, to watch the connection strengthening in front of him, a fledgling relationship learning how to fly. And Kieren is there, with him, his heart beating again and his skin warm.

When Simon's hands shake, Kieren glances over at him, and the smile on his face is joy like nothing Simon has ever seen. "You're coming back," he says quietly, and leans over to kiss Simon like he's never been kissed before. In front of all these people, without shame or the taint of secrecy, by someone he knows loves him. With someone he loves just as much.

* * *

A veil of cloud blurs the moonlight dappling down between the bare branches of the trees as Kieren drags Simon along, twigs snapping loudly beneath their feet and the beam of the torch waving violently, glistening against the wet trunks. Tugging at his hood, shuddering as the cold water drips down the back of his neck - it's enough to make him miss being unable to feel the rain on his skin - Simon hisses, "Kieren, we can still go back. You don't have to go through with this."

"Isn't this part of being together?" Kieren asks, turning to look at him, eerily pale in the light of the torch. "We need to know about each other's pasts. I want to tell you mine, and I want to know yours. And I haven't been back to the cave since..." He trails off, ducking his head out of the light, and swallows audibly. "I want to show you somewhere that's always meant a lot to me. I want it to mean a lot to  _us_." He grabs Simon's hand again, and they're jogging through the woods, slipping on the wet leaves and mud underfoot.

The cave is silent but for the sound of dripping water, and Simon stands at the entrance, watching Kieren moving around in this place he knows so well, letting the bag thrown over his shoulder drop with a soft thud. Warm candlelight fills the cave, and Kieren turns to smile at him, laying a blanket out on the stone ground and beckoning him with a wink. "Come make yourself comfortable," he says, obviously teasing.

"My idea of comfortable would be doing this at home, not out here in a cave," Simon grumbles, but still takes his seat next to Kieren. "I should've taken Amy up on her offer of a double date tonight. It would be worth hearing Philip talking on and on about his political platform to not be out here in the rain." Kieren rolls his eyes at him, a fond smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, and starts to pull food out of the bag.

"I guess me assembling this whole picnic was completely worthless," he says, and starts to lay it all out "I'll eat it all myself." Sighing heavily, Simon leans over to kiss Kieren, pulling the champagne bottle out of his hand and carefully filling their glasses. Kieren leans back against the wall, staring wistfully at the words written on the wall, still bright even though it's been almost six years since they were carved there:  _REN + RICK 4EVER_. "I came here with Rick the night before he left to train," Kieren says softly, and Simon takes his hand, holding it close to his heart, and gazing lovingly at Kieren, so willing to open himself out and bare his past. "It was just the two of us. His dad wasn't going to let me say goodbye to him at the airport, so it was the closest we could get. This was always our place, and we stayed here talking and just...being  _together_. And it was messy, and rushed, but it was right, because I was with him and I  _loved_  him. And I never told him." Simon slides his arm more securely around Kieren as he tips his head back against the wall of the cave and lets out a long, shuddering breath. "Afterwards, we talked about the soul marks. He wrote my name on his wrist, and then he wrote our names on the wall. And then we had to leave, and in the morning he was just gone."

Simon presses a soft kiss to the flushed skin of Kieren's neck, still revelling in feeling a pulse against his lips and the warmth of his body. Kieren blinks wet eyes at him, and gives him a small smile. "I'm sorry you lost him," Simon says, and Kieren laughs wetly at his clear attempt to not betray his jealousy. "So, since it's my turn, I'll tell you about my first love. I'd just left university, and suddenly I'd been pushed out of full-time education into this whole new world, and it was terrifying. I was twenty-two and I was scared, and then I met someone. His name was Connor, and he was so amazing to me at the time. He came into the café where I was working and introduced himself and left his number with my tip. We started dating, quietly, because I hadn't come out yet. He led me to drugs, and I ended up in a bad place. Lost my job. Moved back home with my parents. But he was there, he was always there, no matter what I wanted or when I wanted it. And when I was twenty-five, I was marked." He glances down at his wrist, and watches Kieren's delicate fingers trace his own name. "And he didn't want anything more to do with me. He just left me in the dust, moved on to the next vulnerable young person, and I was left to fall into a darker place and a deeper hole until I died. It almost broke me when he left.  _God_ , I loved him."

"I guess we both made mistakes," Kieren says, and takes a sip of his champagne. "But if I hadn't loved Rick, I wouldn't have lost the will to go on when he died. And if I hadn't killed myself, I would never have met you." He gives Simon a small smile, and curls up closer to him. "Everything happens for a reason. Fate just had a pretty weird way of bringing us together." Simon laughs, and pulls Kieren even closer. "I love you, Simon."

"I love you too," Simon breathes, and Kieren leans up to kiss him. The candlelight flickers with a draft that whistles through the cave, and they break apart looking into each other's eyes. Kieren's pupils are slightly dilated, his breathing coming out ragged and a slight flush in his cheeks, and seeing him undone sends a jolt of heat through Simon's blood. His heart is starting to beat faster, like a tattoo against his bones, and when he kisses Kieren again it seems like he could hear the frantic drumming echoing against the cave walls.

Their foreheads press together when they break their kiss, both of them breathing heavily, and Símon's hands slide up Kieren's sides, pulling at his jumper, feeling him shiver at the touch. Hooking one finger into the close-fitting collar, Simon gently starts to kiss down Kieren's neck, pulling him closer. "Is this going where I think it's going?" Kieren asks, but the teasing tone in his voice is weak, and the way he pushes in closer betrays his want.

"Only if you want it to," Simon breathes against Kieren's neck, slipping the searching fingers of one hand up beneath his jumper, stroking his warm skin through the thin T-shirt beneath it.

Kieren unfolds his crossed legs, and presses Simon backwards slightly, his cheeks pink and his eyes a little glazed over. "I wasn't sure if you would think it was romantic or not," he says, glancing down and away from Simon. "Maybe it's not the best place, but I promise I didn't bring you here because I want to compare you to Rick or anything. I loved him then, but I love you now, and I wanted to show you this. I want it to be our place too. If...if that's okay." He reaches over to the bag with the food in, and Simon feels like the breath has been punched from his lungs when he sees that Kieren prepared.

"It's okay," he promises, and tugs at the bottom of Kieren's jumper, pulling it up over his head and setting it down, out of reach of the flickering candles. "If you're okay with being a bit cold during. I don't suppose you brought any extra blankets?"

Kieren looks up at him from beneath his lashes, looking like sin with his dark eyes and flushed cheeks and kissed-red lips, and his voice is dark as he says, "I was relying on you to keep me warm." Grinning at him, Simon kisses him, letting Kieren push off his heavy coat, running his hands down Simon's torso as they slowly ease back onto the blanket, the material providing some warmth and insulation from the hard ground below.

It's still so new, feeling everything, and it's a delicate balance to maintain, being human again after years of cold numbness, of never feeling the warmth of sunlight splashing across his face or smelling the sharp cologne that Kieren wears out of an old habit, or tasting food that all seems ambrosial to him, after so long waiting to taste. He would never have said out loud that he had a lot of sex before his death - but the truth is, he lost the will to care what people thought. As he spiralled deeper into that dark abyss, he tried to find more and more people who might make sparks fly, who might be able to fill the world with light, who could flip the switch and make him who he used to be. Since his heart started to beat again, people have watched him, like they've been watching so many of the others like him. They watch them carefully, worrying for their mental health as they come jerking back into life.

But when he looks back, he knows he's never been as happy as he now. With a family surrounding him, one that isn't his in blood but offers him so much love he feels like it's overflowing, sweet glowing liquid like nectar pouring out of him with every moment he spends around them. With a home that he can make his own, the tiny bungalow nestled in this tiny town, with the flowers winding up the walls and all the new music Amy's discovered pounding against the walls like a heartbeat. With a life that finally feels like it's coming together, as he winds loose threads into glorious tapestries that make up a new start, a leaf turned over, the beginning of a new chapter. With a boyfriend who loves him, who lies under him in a dark, cold, damp cave and still smiles, still wants, still seems like the most beautiful person in the world.

"I love you," Simon whispers into Kieren's neck, almost lost for any other words to convey how he feels, the depth and the intensity of his feelings too strong for words. He carefully pulls Kieren's shirt over his head, flattening his hands against the blanket to stop his fingers from twitching to cover himself. "Kieren, don't. You're beautiful."

Every touch feels so intense, after five years without being able to feel the lightest brush of fingertips, when kissing felt like it was done through layers of padding to muffle the sensation, didn't feel like fire or connection or love. Now Simon feels so on edge, every inch of his skin craving a thousand touches, the feeling of Kieren's fingers or his lips or his tongue or his teeth, feeling him close and hot and trembling. He kisses his way down Kieren's chest, smirking at every gasp or hitch in his breath, and lets his hands wander, sliding up the inside of Kieren's thigh and over the bulge of his erection. "The First Risen," he breathes softly, and Kieren raises his head to glare at him, slapping his hands away.

"You're such a nerd," he says, his voice rough with arousal, making Simon smirk with pride. "Could you  _please_  just act your age instead of making terrible innuendoes? It's not sexy." He moans as Simon mouths along the waistband of his jeans, letting one hand slip down the back of them, and his hips rise up from the blanket, chasing the sucking kisses. "Oh  _God_ , maybe it is."

Laughing softly, Simon ducks down to kiss Kieren again, pressing himself closer as Kieren's scrambling, eager hands make short work of his jumper and shirt, tossing them aside - no doubt onto the damp, mossy cave floor - and dragging him down, skin against skin. Rasping out sweet nothings against Kieren's shoulder, Simon sheds his remaining clothes and dominates the kisses, holding Kieren down against the blankets and letting his hands wander, soaking up the warmth of his soft skin and the love and want he can feel pouring from him.

"I want you," Kieren gasps into the cold air as Simon bites at his neck, leaving behind a bruise that won't be hidden by his collar. "Simon, I want you to  _fuck_ me."

Staring down at him, with a flush spilling down his chest and his chest erratically rising and falling with his heavy breathing and his eyelids fluttering, Simon gulps and murmurs, "But I don't...I've never...everyone I've ever been with, they...well, they wanted to be in control."

Kieren just smiles up at him, cupping Simon's face between his hands and leaning up to kiss him gently. "It's okay," he says softly. "I've never gone this far with anyone, so, in a way, we're each other's firsts." That thought makes Simon smile, kiss Kieren again, swallow every gasp and moan.

It's almost too much, teetering on the knife edge between contentment, pleasure, and the darker side of pain and sorrow. Everything just came so close to never having this, skin on skin in a quiet cave lit only by flickering candlelight, matching their wrists up to each other's names, looking down into each other's eyes and not having to say the words. A gentle caress is enough, a tender kiss, a shift of hips that draws moans from both of them. It's not just sex, it's making love, a label Simon has never put on anything, and when he collapses on the blanket he doesn't let go of Kieren, smoothing his sweat-damp hair and murmuring promises of love and devotion and forever into his shoulder.

"I never believed that anyone should save themselves for their soulmate," Kieren finally says, as he rolls onto his side to look at Simon, his face lit up from within and a helpless smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "But I have to admit, all that bullshit about a greater connection is true." He curls up into Simon, laying his head on his chest, over his pounding heart. "I love you."

"I love you too," Simon says, wrapping his arm tighter around Kieren and looking up at the cave wall. He stares at the words splashed across the wall, and he feels Kieren twitch when he notices him looking. "This is an amazing place, Kieren. I'm so glad you let me come here." He looks at Kieren, sees him opening his mouth, and says, "Don't say anything about this on the wall. It's true - your first love will always have a place in your heart, you'll always carry that person with you. Especially if they loved you in return. But I know that you can still move on and find happiness elsewhere. Because of you."

Holding his wrist up to Simon's, Kieren stares at their marks, his eyes going soft with love. "This is what I always wanted," he says softly, and kisses Simon. "I should really get out of here. I hate to say it, but it's fucking freezing in here."

They both get dressed, sneaking glances at each other and smiling, packing their picnic away and blowing out the candles. Kieren glances up at the graffiti one last time, and Simon squeezes his shoulder in reassurance, their hands linked as they walk back through the woods, towards the bungalow with its single window still bright despite the late hour. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?" Simon asks as they come to the door, and Kieren shakes his head.

Pushing him back against the wall, Simon kisses him fiercely, trying to pour everything he has out through that simple connection, and he hears the door handle being pushed down a second before Amy bursts out into the night. "My porch is not for snogging on!" she says, the corner of her mouth twitching and undermining her stern tone. "Come on now, boys, you'll see each other tomorrow. Time to say goodnight."

Kieren moves away with a long-suffering sigh, and Amy giggles at them. Reaching for Simon's hands, for one last kiss, Kieren asks, "See you tomorrow?"

And, kissing Kieren's forehead softly, letting two fingers drift along his own name branded on that impossibly soft skin, Simon promises, "See you tomorrow."

* * *

**FOUR YEARS LATER**

_Tom Russo and Shirley Wilson-Russo_

_are happy to announce the marriage of their son_

_Philip Christopher Wilson_

_to_

_Amy Dorothy Dyer_

_on the_

_14th of September 2018_

_RSVP_

Chivvying a collection of bridesmaids into their dressing room, Kieren looks out at the crisp autumn day and wishes he could paint the scenery. The leaves on the trees are beginning to turn from regimented green in a rainbow of red and orange and yellow, burnished metal clinging to the branches, the sun pouring down and a breeze ruffling the grass. Amy, with all her love of blending colours and the feel of sunlight on her skin, couldn't have picked a better day for her wedding.

Turning the sign towards the hall where the ceremony will be held to face the door more prominently, Kieren slips back into the small room where the bridal party are all waiting, taking advantage of the hotel's offer of champagne and the free chocolates left in the suite. Jem is already sprawled out over the couch, both of her marks shown proudly off by her dress, the sleeves made of some sheer material that Amy chose. So much of this wedding was orchestrated by her, of course. She was never going to have any average, ordinary wedding.

As she emerges from her room, looking so much taller than she really is and bright like a star, Kieren can feel his jaw go slack as she smiles at him, holding her arms out for approval. The dress used to be white and plain, but with her touch she layered the skirt in the colours of autumn, flashing as she turns, and the overall effect is stunning. "Amy... _wow_ ," Kieren finally manages to breathe out, and she laughs. "You're...well, you look-"

"More-geous?" Amy suggests brightly, and grins when Kieren nods, spreading her skirt out and grinning. "And you look very handsome, handsome. I'll be proud to walk down the aisle on your arm, and everyone can think what a good-looking couple we'd make."

"You should've married Kier," Jem remarks, and Kieren turns wide eyes and a pained expression on her. "I would've loved that. You could've married him, and then we'd be sisters."

"You're still my sister in spirit, Jem," Amy says, and both women smile at each other, Jem standing up to hug Amy as the clock ticks around to announce five minutes until the ceremony begins.

Kieren can't remember the last time he attended a wedding, but he knows it wasn't better than this one. Amy is positively radiant, drifting down the aisle as if on air, letting all her guests see Philip's name on her wrist, see him standing there with tears in his eyes, so glowingly proud and happy and at a loss for how he managed to find this kind of love. Despite Kieren's warning glances and prods to her side, Jem keeps smiling at Dean, waving to him behind her flowers, and halfway through the ceremony he finds himself gazing openly at Simon, almost dropping the rings when the time comes to hand them over.

The speeches seem to flash by, with plenty of jokes made at both the bride and groom's expense, and Amy taking it laughing while Philip blushes and tries to hide from Shirley's black looks. When it's Kieren's turn, he smiles at Amy and says, "She's the best friend I've ever had, and it's down to her that I'm now lucky enough to be with my soulmate. I've seen her relationship with Philip blossom, and there are no two people in the world who deserve this happiness more than they do. Well, except for me and Simon. And possibly my sister, so she doesn't slap me." Jem winks at him, and he grins into the microphone, raising his glass. "To Amy and Philip, the couple third-most deserving of happiness in the world." Everyone laughs and completes the toast, and Kieren returns to his seat, taking Simon's hand and watching Jem step up to the plate, a devious gleam in her eyes.

As the reception gets underway, Kieren stays sitting at the table, watching Simon and Jem dancing together, talking over the music. Footsteps sound, and Amy comes over to sit next to him, collapsing into a chair and kicking off her shoes. "They never tell you when you buy these silly things that they're murder on your feet," she remarks, rubbing at her toes. Leaning against him, she confides, "I haven't told Philip yet, but my doctor told me last week my body has finally left PDS behind enough that I'll be able to have children."

"Really?!" Kieren asks, and she nods, grinning. "Amy, that's amazing!"

"So I'm all set to be your surrogate when you get off your arse and actually use that ring you've been carrying around for days," Amy says, and Kieren looks at her in shock, letting his fingers brush over the box hidden in the inside pocket of his blazer. "Don't look like that, handsome, you know I'm a genius. Nothing gets past me. And it doesn't matter to me if you think this is my day or something like that, my day would be made complete if my two best friends in the world finally stop dancing around and realise they're going to end up married sooner or later. Make it sooner!"

"God, you're bossy," Kieren sighs, and Amy grins at him eagerly. "Fine, fine, I'll ask Simon to marry me at some point."

"That's not good enough!" Amy says loudly, enough to gain the attention of several people dancing close to them. "Look, he's right over there, just go and ask him. The longer I have to write the speech I'll make at your wedding, the better it will be." She pouts at him, widening her eyes pleadingly. "This is the best wedding present you could give me, Kieren."

Sighing heavily, Kieren stands up and weaves his way across the dance floor to where Jem and Simon are laughing as she twirls beneath his arms, red hair flying. "Mind if I interrupt?" he asks, and Jem grins at him, eyes shining as she darts away. Kieren's never been sure that her and Amy are in cahoots against him as he slides easily into Simon's arms, the two of them swaying together. "I love you," he breathes into Simon's ear, holding him close.

Noticing Amy and Jem coming to dance near them, both of them smirking at him and giving him thumbs up, Kieren extracts the box from his pocket and drops to one knee. "Kieren..." Simon says slowly, staring down at him as if he can't quite absorb what's happening. "Love, what are you doing?"

"Simon, I found you in an incredible twist of fate, and I couldn't be happier about it," Kieren says, and a hush falls over the room, the same quiet that descends when it's obvious something of incredible magnitude is about to happen in the midst of a crowd. "At first, you didn't seem like the sort of person I could ever fall in love with. But then you became someone I felt safe with, someone I turned to when things went wrong, someone who could be my anchor in dark times. And if I didn't already know it, your name on my wrist shows me that this is where I belong, with you. We were always meant to love each other and spend our lives together. So..." He trails open to open the clasp of the box, displaying the simple silver ring. "Simon Monroe, will you marry me?"

For a moment, there's only reverent silence. Kieren can feel his fingers shaking, his heart pounding through his whole body, and he daren't look up at Simon's face in case what he sees isn't what he sees. Then, Amy's voice breaks the silence as she shouts, "Say yes, dumb-dumb!"

"Can always count on you to interrupt the moment, Amy," Simon remarks, and the crowd laughs. "God, Kieren, yes. Please. Yes please." Applause fills the room, and Kieren finally breathes as he climbs to his feet and slides the ring onto Simon's finger. It looks so at home there, and he's not quite sure who's whooping as Simon pulls him close for a long, deep kiss.

But, God, it feels so right. The cold metal dragging against his skin as Simon strokes his face, people cheering as they announce their love for the whole world to see, Amy jumping on both of them as they part, eyes filled with tears and a smile on her lips. Jem hugging them, exchanging secretive looks with Dean that will no doubt come to fruition after the wedding. This is his family, and he's pieced it together from ruins. And he's never been so happy to have them all, whether they're bound by blood or words on his skin or by simple love.


End file.
